


Being Human

by QueensJenn



Category: The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: AU to season 3, Angst, Dawnders, F/M, God shit, Heartbreak, More angst, Mortal shit, No Spoilers, Rare Pair, Slow Build, even more angst, oh shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:19:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 45,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueensJenn/pseuds/QueensJenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Axl banishes Bragi. And for the first time since turning 21, Anders thinks he is truly alone. But is he, really?</p><p>Caught between the desires of his family and his heart, Anders must balance the fine line - or make an impossible decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In retrospect, Anders can understand. If he’s brutally honest with himself (which he never is, out of a sense of cowardice that calls itself _self-preservation_ ), he knows he fucked up. 

Leading a mortal to a goddess ceremony. Not just a mortal - would that that was his only sin! A god-hunter. 

The world had almost ended today, and it is all his fault his fault _his fault._

The drive from the site of the ceremony back to the bar is the longest drive of his entire life. It’s a wonder he doesn’t end up in a ditch; he’s so distracted that he can barely concentrate on the road.

That’s the last thing he needs today. To cause an accident; kill an innocent. More blood on his hands, more guilt to the steadily growing pile that he just will not - cannot - will not acknowledge.

 _Not your fault,_ the voice in the back of his mind whispers. Deep and seductive. A comfort, a reassurance. _You couldn’t have known you would be followed. You were scared, more scared than you’ve ever been in your entire life. Isn’t it natural that you ran to your family? Isn’t it an honour to them, that you came to them first?_

The words make sense. Of course they do. Mike was scared, he’d spoken in haste. He will see that it really isn’t Anders’ fault - not the god-hunter, not Gaia, nothing. Mike will see that. Everything will be okay.

So why does he find himself sitting in his car outside the bar, his heart pounding? He knows, suddenly, and with perfect clarity, that he shouldn’t go in. He should turn around and drive away, go somewhere, anywhere. Out of Auckland, hell, out of New Zealand. Just get away, because everything is about to go wrong.

 _We’ll make it okay, my boy,_ the voice whispers, twisting through his mind, curling around his body, soothing his nerves. _We don’t need them. We make our own luck. You are mine, and I won’t let them hurt you._

Right. He closes his eyes, lets the presence, the power, wash through him. He can do this. He is Bragi, and nothing can hurt him.

~~~

“Where’s Gaia?” he asks as soon as he steps inside, before he can stop himself, before he can think about how that sounds.

Axl surges forward, but Mike and Ty hold him back. “Axl took her home,” Mike says. “She’s with the goddesses.”

Anders nods; relief and dismay surging through him at once. He likes Gaia well enough (enough for as well as he knows her, which isn’t very well at all), and he can’t deny that she’s cute, in a young, innocent sort of way. But he isn’t attracted to her, not like that - she’s so young, and so innocent, and every time he looks at her he’s reminded of what he’ll have to take from her and from Axl, and it makes him hate himself just that much more.

Bragi, on the other hand. Bragi is screaming. He takes a steadying breath.

“What happened -“ 

“You lead her to us. The most sacred ceremony, and you lead a fucking god-hunter right into the middle of it. You lead her to _Odin!_ What would have happened if Axl had died, Anders? Do you ever think?”

“What should I have done?” Anders snaps. He can feel Bragi whispering in his mind, urging him to stay calm, to keep his composure and _fight back_. “There was a murderous, psychotic _bitch_ who’d just _murdered_ my…Helen…in front of my eyes. She almost killed _me._ If Helen hadn’t…if she hadn’t…” The scene plays itself out in front of him again, in vivi colour, and he can hear the click of the crossbow and Helen’s surprised grunt and the acrid, metallic scent of blood in the air, so thick he imagines he can taste it. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he says at last. He lifts his chin defiantly. He will not let Mike see him broken or defeated. He smoothes his expression, letting Bragi flow through him, solid and unyielding like an iron bar. He thinks it might be the only thing holding him up at the moment. He is Bragi, and nothing can hurt him.

Even Mike appears to be softening. _Have you ever been in mortal danger?_ Anders wants to ask him. _Have you ever stared death in the face, and had your life flashing before your eyes because you know, you_ know _that it’s your last moments on earth, and suddenly everything seems so meaningless?_  

“What now?” Axl asks, and he sounds as defeated as Anders feels. They look to Olaf, even as they know it’s useless. 

“Well…we have to figure out how…or if…we can get Idunn out of Gaia. So she can become Frigg.”

It makes sense. Idunn might be the Constant goddess, but no one could deny the feeling of…. _wrongness_ in her occupation of Gaia. 

“You have to stay away from her,” Axl says to Anders. “If you…and she…are together…” He trails off, unable to finish, and Anders can hear the raw pain in his voice. Shame engulfs him yet again. This was supposed to be their victory night, the night that the world changed and they got their powers at last. Odin would be with Frigg, and all would be well.

Instead, they’re hunkered down in a shitty bar, and Anders has just inadvertently stole the love of his little brother’s life. 

“Axl, I’m sorry…” he begins.

“Shut up! This is all your fault! You were the one who found the god-hunter in the first place! She was after you!” And Anders really hopes he’s only imagining the unspoken words: _It should have been you that was killed._

“I don’t know what else you want me to do!” he snaps, and he really doesn’t. Everyone is looking at him expectantly, like there’s something obvious that he’s missing, but he can’t figure it out and is sick of playing games. That’s Ullr’s territory. That’s Mike’s.  

“I want you to get out of here.” Axl’s voice is flat. Calm. “I’m Odin. I banish you, Bragi. You can’t…you can’t use your god powers any more. Not unless I tell you you can.”

Anders feels like the world is moving out from under him. “You can’t do that,” he says. It comes out as more of a croak. The inside of his head is buzzing and there’s an odd ache in his chest; the same ache he gets sometimes when he thinks too hard about god shit (and how much easier life would be if they just weren’t gods).

“I’m Odin.”

“Mike?” he casts his eyes at his big brother, desperately looking for help. 

“It’s probably for the best, Anders. Just for now.”

“But - but what about my _job?_ Or have you forgotten that I own a fucking PR firm?”

“But isn’t that what you went to school for?” There’s a decided sneer in Mike’s tone now. “Top of your class, remember? Or did you just fuck and sweet-talk all your teachers for that too?”

It stings, like a slap across the face. Anders wishes they had simply punched him. Already he can feel the strength leaving him - _Bragi_ leaving him, and the fight has gone out of him. He won’t argue. 

Ty catches his eye as he turns to leave, and something flashes into his mind, exploding with its brilliance. It’s the least he can do.

“Wait,” he says. “Let me - let me do one last thing. Please. It’s important. It’s for Ty.”

There’s a pause, and then Axl nods, and Bragi is back, already heady and overpowering.

“Ty,” he says softly, and oh, yes, the words just flow from him like water; he doesn’t have to think about what he’s saying, because it isn’t Anders, it’s Bragi, and Bragi will never fail.

“Ty…why don’t you just forget about Dawn, okay? Look, you’re mortal now! You can have anyone you want. It’s never going to be the same, between you and her. Start fresh, with someone else. You deserve it, Ty. You deserve it more than anything.”

Ty nods hesitantly, and just like that, Bragi is gone again. Mike and Axl have identical looks of shock and outrage on their faces. Anders slumps forward and has to grab the bar to keep himself on his feet. He doesn’t look at his brothers (are they his brothers? Are they still?) as he turns and walks out the front door. 

He doesn’t feel any better for getting away from them. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he feels _worse._ At least, before, he knew where he stood. The black sheep of the Johnsons, but a Johnson all the same. Axl liked him, Mike and Ty tolerated him, and he could live with that. 

(Maybe if he wants to think about it, which he doesn’t, ever, he will admit that he _liked_ it the way it was.)

More than that, he was Bragi, and nothing could hurt him.

Now he is no one, with no family, and suddenly the world is too large. 

He needs to get drunk. Or laid. Preferably both. 

He doesn’t move. There’s an empty, hollow feeling in his chest. He’s alone, really, truly alone, in a way that he hasn’t been since he turned 21. 

Alone. 

It rings out in his mind, and he knows with utter surety that he can fuck every woman in New Zealand, and it won’t make it any better.

~~~

In the end, he just ends up going home. Or he tries to.

Halfway home he remembers the corpse on his floor (and shit fuck, how could he have forgotten?) and for a long while he just sits in his car, breathing deeply and telling himself not to panic.

If things were different, if things were all right, he could call the police, report a robbery in his apartment, and Bragi could do the rest. But fuck, if things were all right, then he wouldn’t have a corpse in his apartment in the first place.

He could run, Anders thinks. He could withdraw all his money from the bank, buy a plane ticket to somewhere far away. Not Norway, fuck that shit. The States, maybe. Canada. Somewhere, where he’ll never be found, and never has to think about any of this shit again. Fuck, he could even change his name. With enough practice, his accent would wear away, and he could be a nobody somewhere else, where it didn’t matter, instead of a nobody in Auckland, where every day he would be reminded of all he’d lost. 

But he doesn’t. He drives past the exit to the airport, resolutely not even looking at it. He doesn’t know why he does; it’s certainly not bravery. Anders won’t lie to himself and try to tell himself he’s brave. 

He’s not brave. He’s not strong. Without Bragi, he’s nothing.

He climbs the stairs to his apartment. The door is still hanging open. 

Not brave. Not strong.

The body is still there. Of course it is - maybe somewhere in the back of his mind he’d hoped that… _something_ would have happened and maybe she would be gone by the time it was all over. 

His fingers are numb as he pulls out his phone and dials the police. His voice cracks.

“I…I need an ambulance. My wife has been murdered.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dawn knows there’s something wrong with Anders when he comes into the office and actually does _work._  

He’s had a rough night, that much is certain. But that’s nothing new; she’s quite used to seeing him stumble into the office at half-noon, hungover as hell, or even better, coked out of his mind (and truth be told, he’s often at his most brilliant in those states; the anti-drug campaign had been simply _inspired_ and Anders hadn’t been sober for even a moment of it). But when he’s had that kind of night, he’s _on -_ pacing, gesticulating wildly to the air as he rambles at a million words per minute. It’s fascinating, if a little terrifying to watch.

This kind of work is different. It’s a quiet sort of productivity - no less frantic, but so damn _tired_ and it’s just as frightening to watch him methodically look over paperwork and type quietly on his computer. The phone rings but he only looks at it with a certain wide-eyed look of surprise ( _fright?_ ) and doesn’t answer it.

Ordinarily, this kind of shirking annoys her. But today, today is different. Anders just looks so _broken_ that she finds herself wondering if she should tell him to go home. 

“Helen not coming in today then?” she asks at last.

Anders looks up at her, eyes wide and mouth open for only a second before he regains his composure. 

“No,” he says shortly. “She’s not.”

There’s a warning tickle in the back of Dawn’s mind, that pursuing this train of thought is a very bad idea, but she can’t stop herself. She hates Helen more than she wants to admit; for taking her job ( _just her job?)_ away from her. She knows she should hate Anders too, but she knows he can’t help it; he’s stupid and helpless when it comes to women, and it’s not surprising that he would have let himself be manipulated. 

“Did she shoot through?”

And that’s what makes it worse: Helen came into their lives, messed things up, and then left, without a single thought to what she was leaving behind. 

He looks up at her again, and there’s something unreadable in his eyes; like he’s forcing himself to normality.

“Not exactly, no.”

“So she’s - “

“ _Leave it, Dawn!”_

His control snaps and he slams his hands down on his desk. His voice is brittle and he’s blinking rapidly. He’s clearly not okay and for the first time he’s _scaring_ her but at the same time she’s struck with the  overwhelming urge to go to him, to try to comfort him in some way.

That’s stupid, though, and she ignores it. Whatever is bothering Anders, it’s to do with Helen and she _won’t_ get involved in that. 

“You can - you can go,” he says softly. “Home. For today.”

She wants to. She wants to just turn away and forget Anders and all his shit. But she doesn’t. 

Call her crazy, but she has this nagging feeling that she really shouldn’t leave him alone tonight. She moves toward him.

“Anders -“

“Dawn, just go,” he says, his voice quiet. 

Somehow, that’s worse than anything. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she says softly, and just resists the urge to touch his hand or his shoulder, or _something_ , just to tell him she cares.

She doesn’t care. She doesn’t care, she tells herself as she leaves the office. She doesn’t care at all.

~~~

Anders almost calls her back.

It’s on the tip of his tongue, just to call her name, but he doesn’t.

What could he say, anyway? How would he explain? Ty had revealed once, in a moment of unguarded weakness, that Dawn had thought he, Ty, had killed Eva. Ty, of all people. Ty, whom Dawn had loved at the time. 

What, then, would she think of him? Certainly she didn’t remember Ty or her suspicions, but it wouldn’t stop her from putting the pieces together over Helen.

So he lets her go, telling himself that he doesn’t want her there anyway.

The office is dark and quiet when the door finally slams, and he lays down on the couch, trying to make sense of the last 24 hours.

Helen is dead. Gaia is Idunn. Frigg is…not here. Their powers have not been restored.

Bragi is gone.

Of all the things that have gone wrong in the past day, that is perhaps the worst. The cold, dark feeling of emptiness in his chest. Like there’s a hole inside him, and Anders knows that he can drink and fuck and take as many drugs as he possible can, but it will never be filled up. 

And it’s going to be like this forever. Anders isn’t stupid. He saw the look on Axl’s face and he knows that everything is broken, ruined. He’s lost his god and he’s lost his _brother_ and he’s not sure which is worse.

The god, of course. He’d lived for years without his brothers. Bragi has been with him constantly since he turned 21. Bragi’s the one who never turned his back, Bragi’s the one who always understood. Brag’s the one who always knows the right thing to do, even when Anders doesn’t. Sleeping with Val, for one. And if it cost him Mike, then who cared? 

He shuts his eyes and listens, not with his his ears but with his soul, straining every fibre of his being to catch just a trace of the god. There is nothing. He knows that Bragi is _there_ , because Odin - Axl - doesn’t have the power to command gods’ spirits to leave their vessels. Only death can do that. But wherever Bragi is banished to, it is somewhere that Anders cannot follow. 

He closes his eyes - he’s tired, but he knows he won’t be able to sleep. The world is too big, too quiet without Bragi, and besides, he can’t go back to his flat. Not where…not where…

_He’d been shaking when the police came. Maybe from shock, maybe from fear, he didn’t know. All he knew was there was a dead body with a fucking bolt from a fucking crossbow in it on his kitchen floor, and the police were going to collar him because isn’t the first one on the scene always the perpetrator? He’s drunk-watched enough episodes of crime shows to remember that. And a fucking great crossbow, who carries one of those?_

_But the police detective who came into the flat to question him took one look at the body and got a funny expression on his face, and Anders wanted to throw up because he knew, he knew he’s about to be arrested. The detective sat down in front of him on the couch and leaned in close, pitching his voice so that only Anders can hear it, and says: “Look. We both know what happened here tonight. It’s not the first time, and I can take care of it. No one has to know; especially not the mortals. We’ll say it was a jealous lover. How does that sound?”_

_Anders looked up at him, not believing what he was hearing._

_“Forseti,” the detective replied with a wink. “Now the important part: is that fucker still out there?”_

_“No…she’s dead. Mike killed her.” He wonders if Mike knows Forseti, or whatever his human vessel is called. He’s not wearing a nametag._

_“Are there any more?”_

_Anders leaned back against the couch with a sigh. “Fuck. I don’t know.”_

_“That’s all right. But you’d better get out of here - they know where you live now, and they know you’re a god. They will come back.”_

_“Fuck,” Anders said again, blinking as hot tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, which is shit because he hasn’t cried in years, not since he was a kid, and fuck if he’s going to start now. All he wants to do is hide under the covers and beg someone - anyone - to make it all go away and stop and make everything okay again, but that’s not going to happen, is it._

_In the end, he packs a few things and heads to a hotel._

He’s going to have to sell the flat, he knows. That stings. It’s not that he’s particularly _attached_ to this flat (apart from his fish), but it’s _his_ and it chafes to know that he’s being forced out for reasons beyond his control. 

Then again, he thinks darkly, maybe it’s better to move out now before being evicted because he can’t pay rent. 

The firm is going to go under. Without Bragi, he has no chance of getting new clients - or keeping the ones he has. His thoughts are swirling and he can’t remember the first thing about any of them, let alone what he learned at uni, 5, 6 years ago. He has no chance, and its all Axl’s fault.

No, the breath comes out of him like a sigh. It’s his, Anders’ fault. He could have done more. He could have realized Natalie was up to no good, but he’d been too blinded, too stupidly in love with Helen to look beyond his own dick and _see_ what was going on around him. Those precious few days with her felt like a sweet dream. Her death was like being shoved into the waking world, everything harsh and over-bright. It’s wrong and it hurts and he would give anything just to go back to sleep again.

Sleep. He can’t remember the last time he’s slept. Between Helen’s near-constant need for sex, and then the clusterfuck that was last night, it’s been awhile.

He knows he should. Leave the office, go back to the hotel. Try to sleep. He’s going to need all his wits to try to stay afloat, and he’ll be no good if he’s exhausted and strung out. 

Anders doesn’t move. If this is the waking world, he doesn’t want to know what his nightmares will be like. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ********* TRIGGER WARNING ************
> 
> Suicide, blood (not deliberate cutting, tho), suicidal ideation. 
> 
> Seriously. You have been warned.

Anders doesn’t mean to fall asleep on the couch in the office, but he does, and is awakened the next morning by Dawn opening the door and turning on the light.

She jumps and makes a little squeaking sound, but rolls her eyes, clearly assuming he’d gotten drunk the night before and passed out right there in the office. Which is ridiculous of course, because he hasn’t done that in months.

“Morning!” he chirps, sitting up and putting on his best fake-smile. 

It might have fooled anyone else, but this is Dawn he’s dealing with; Dawn who has seen him at his best and worst. But part of Dawn’s charm (and value) is that she has the sense of when not to pry, so she simply gives him an odd look.

“Were you here all night?” she asks.

He shrugs sheepishly; it’s not the best thing to do but he does feel better for having slept. 

Dawn just shakes her head and goes to her desk. “You’ve got a meeting at 11. The woman from the bakery, Anita Boylan.”

Oh, fuck. He’s forgotten about that, and he knows its not going to be pleasant. That was the reason he’d scheduled it for today; because he’d assumed, at the time, that he would not be here. 

“And what time is it now?” he asks.

“Ten.”

“Fuck!” It’s barely enough time to go home…to go back to the hotel and shower and change, but he does it anyway.

He stops at a pharmacy just before getting back to the room. The store is nearly deserted at this hour, and he feels like everyone must be staring at him. Logically, he knows he looks no different. But he feels different, and even being rung up suddenly seems like an obstacle.

He goes to the homeliest, most-maternal looking cashier on duty. The sort that he would never attempt to pick up. Even still, it’s a struggle to find the words to keep up even a semblance of normality. The cashier gives him and odd, sympathetic look as he stumbles and stammers through the transaction.

He drives in silence back to the hotel. Contrary to his usual preferences, he’d chosen a nondescript motor lodge, rather than anything high-class. It’s painfully spartan, especially compared to what he’s used to (and when he opens the door to the grey, drab room he thinks longingly of his lodgings in Norway, before shutting that line of thought off sharply). But what it lacks in comfort it makes up for in privacy, and right now, that’s the only thing he wants. 

He double-checks that the door is locked and the deadbolt is thrown, and then checks again, just to be safe. Then he goes to the bathroom, turns on the light, and opens the bag.

He doesn’t have time to shave his beard, not really, but he can’t stand it a moment longer. He can’t even say for certain _why_ he wants it gone, other than a vague feeling of wrongness. A visual reminder of Norway and what his life has become ever since.

The cheap razor isn’t really up to the job, but it gets it done, and twenty minutes later Anders’ beard is gone and he’s only cut himself twice. The blood wells up on his chin and he stares at it, entranced. It rolls off his skin and falls onto the sink, and suddenly he’s back in his flat, watching Helen’s blood smeared across the floor. So much blood…how can there be so much blood in the human body? 

Such a precious, precarious thing it is, too. So much can go wrong. Life is only an accident, and it’s only through luck that it endures.

The face that stares back at him is young and scared-looking, and he wonders what others see when they look at him. 

Suddenly shaky and nauseous, he wipes the blood off his face and steps into the shower, and if the water on his face is tears, then no one has to know.

~~~

He makes it back to the office by ten minutes after eleven. Dawn raises her eyebrow at his changed appearance, but doesn’t mention it, for which he is grateful. She only nods toward his desk and says in a low voice, “watch out.”

Anita Boylan is a thin, blonde, severe looking woman, and for half a second he has to repress a shudder and the urge to look wildly around for a crossbow. But he clears his throat and sits down on the couch next to her, and hopes for the best.

“Anita! What can I do for you?”

She fixes him with a cold glare. “It’s Mrs. Boylan. And you can start by doing your job.”

Desperately he tries to recall the specifics of this client. A bakery. A disgruntled ex-employee. Vicious rumours. 

Only, the rumours are true, and Anders sympathized with the employee, and had decided that he would represent them both. A conflict of interest, perhaps, but for Bragi, a piece of cake. 

Without Bragi, however…

“Well, the thing is,” he begins, “you did fire Jenna for calling in sick, and you did withhold her pay. And you did go on several websites and call her names.”

“She’s a poisonous little viper!” Mrs. Boylan hisses, her green eyes narrowing into slits. 

“Maybe. But, what you did was illegal - “

“Well am I supposed to do? I guess I might as well just shut down, if I’m just going to let my employees walk all over me!”

Anders pinches the bridge of his nose, fighting off the dull pounding in his temples. Bragi would know what to do. Bragi would make this insane woman realize she’s being unreasonable, because clearly, that is something only a god would be able to do. He shakes his head to clear it; Bragi is not here and he needs to deal with the matter at hand.

“Look,” he says at last. “The story has already gotten out. Jenna went to the media; Yelp is all over it, the local news has done a story on you. Your best hope, right now, is to turn over a new leaf. We can build it up. But you’ll have to work with me. You have to be willing to own up to your mistakes.”

Ah, and there’s the bombshell. “I haven’t made any!” she wails. “You don’t know what it’s like! Ever since I’ve opened, I’ve been dealing with bullies and haters and…and jerks who just want me to close up for no reason! You don’t know what it’s like to be hated for doing nothing wrong!”

_Don’t be so sure of that._

“Well, then I don’t know what to tell you,” Anders says at last. “You broke the law, you fucked up, but I can’t help you unless you help me help you.”

“Fine!” Mrs. Boylan stands up. “You are _useless_!”

“So I understand,” he mutters to himself as she storms out the door. 

~~~

The meeting is only a harbinger of what the rest of the day will bring. By midday, he’s lost three more clients, and the courier company is just _not_ co-operating, and the printers threaten to bring a lawsuit if he doesn’t pay them on time.

By afternoon, the pain in his head has risen to migraine levels, and it’s all he can do just to sit at his desk and _breathe_ and try not to think about the futility of it all. 

There’s a small sound, and he looks up. Dawn sets a bottle of Aspirin in front of him. 

“Thanks,” he says softly.

“I’m enabling you,” she calls back as she walks back to her desk.

 _I’m not hungover, though_ , he thinks as he shakes the pills out into his hand. _I wish I was._ He thinks he would do anything for a bottle of vodka right at that moment. Even with… _especially_ with the painkillers.

He shakes his head to clear it of that thought, and forces himself to concentrate on the tasks at hand. Sending emails. Reading files. Trying to put together some semblance of a plan, to see connections and loopholes that would have taken Bragi mere seconds. He’s frustrated by his own slowness, and driven mad knowing that no matter what he does, there will always be something just out of his reach, some angle that’s only possible with his god-powers, and the fact that no matter what, there are just some things now that he will _never be able to do._  

But it’s the call from his landlord, asking about the police presence in his flat that really drives him over the edge. 

“A misunderstanding,” he lies. “Just a bit of unpleasantness. I’ll be back soon. Tonight.”

Then he hangs up and hurls his phone across the room. 

It lands on a tray of wineglasses set up on the sideshelf, which shatter with a spectacular crash. Dawn jumps and looks back at him. He waves her off, and goes to pick it up - 

\- Only to jump back with a hiss of pain as he slices his finger open on one of the glass shards. 

The blood rolls down his hand, and Anders stares at it. Blood. 

Helen. Bragi. He can’t escape. No matter what he does, it happened, he screwed up, and lost everything. Nothing will ever be right again. He knows this now, he can see it with utter clarity. Because what’s going to happen when they get their powers back, and Bragi is still banished? 

No matter what happens, it’s all the same. Mortal or god, Anders will always be alone. The firm is a hairs breadth from closing down. There is nothing to tie him to this city, or this country. Or to this life.

He promised his landlord he would come back to the flat tonight. At the time, he’d thought it was just an empty promise (and he can hear Mike’s voice in his head, saying _aren’t all your promises empty?_ And it _hurts_ ) so maybe this one won’t be. Maybe this time, he really will go back to his flat, and he won’t look at the floor in the kitchen, where there will be a bloodstain, he’s sure of it. He’ll open his fridge, full of the vodka he’s craving, and in the bathroom, the pills for the nights when it became too much and Bragi just wouldn’t _shut up_ and Anders just wants to sleep. 

Quick, easy, and painless. And he won’t have to suffer the indignity of losing his business and his home.

And oddly, that’s all it takes. The buzzing sound in his head recedes and all he can feel is a sort of calm, almost _tranquility_. 

He sits down at his desk, opens his computer, and just waits for the day to be over.

~~~

Dawn doesn’t usually listen to the radio at work, but today she needs to. It isn’t like Anders to be so quiet, and the silence is oppressive. So she turns the radio on quietly, and tries to tell herself that everything is all right.

One thing is for sure, Anders isn’t hung over. He looks like shit and he sounds like shit, but in a different sort of way, a way that she can’t put her finger on but makes her very uncomfortable. 

The station’s call sign and ID plays, and then the DJ launches into the news reports, and Dawn freezes.

_“Police are investigating the murder of an Auckland woman. Helen Larvig, 35, was murdered 2 nights ago with a crossbow in a private dwelling. Police believe it to be a domestic dispute, and are seeking the assistance of the public in locating the suspect, a mid-thirties blond woman. So fare there are no leads._

Helen is dead. Anders’ so-called wife is dead.

Oh, this explains _everything_ and Dawn’s heart breaks for him.

Slowly she gets up and walks back to the office area. Anders is sitting frozen in his chair, evidently having heard the news report as well. His blue eyes are wide and haunted. 

Before she can think about what she’s doing, Dawn comes around the side of the desk and just hugs him as tight as she can. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers into his hair. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He hesitates a moment, then leans into her embrace. “She saved me,” he whispers back, and he doesn’t know _why_ he ’s saying it, other than it’s true, and it needs to be remembered, because no one else will know. “She sacrificed herself, for me. For me, Dawn. She died for me.”

Dawn doesn’t know what to say, so she doesn’t say anything, just holds him. “Are you all right?” she asks at last.

“I will be,” he answers, his voice flat. “ He shrugs out of her grasp, and makes a show of checking his watch. “5:30. Let’s get out of here. I’ll see you…I’ll see you.” And she doesn’t miss the hesitation in his voice. Or the blood still leaking in slow rivulets down his arm.

She tries to leave, but a warning prickles in the back of her mind. Call it a hunch, but she knows she shouldn’t leave him alone tonight, and her hunches are rarely wrong.

“Come on,” she says, placing her hand under his arm. 

He looks up at her blearily. “What?”

“I’m taking you home. With me. We're going to my house.”

“What? Why?”

“Because.” _Because I don’t trust you not to hurt yourself._  

She expects him to refuse. For a minute, she almost feels silly - he’s a grown man, and he can make his own choices. Besides, this is _Anders_ , and a more self-serving person has never been born -

“Okay,” he says quietly, and takes her hand, and follows her out to the car. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The ride back to Dawn’s house is long and silent. Dawn doesn’t know what to say, and Anders doesn’t want to say anything, so neither of them say anything at all and try to ignore the growing awkwardness.

 _Say something rude,_ Dawn thinks. _Say something inappropriate. Just to let me know you’re still in there._

But he doesn’t, and she doesn’t know how to bring it up. She parks the car and unlocks the door, waiting for him to come up behind her.

He looks around like he’s in a dream; the house both familiar and strange. Dawn had been right when she’d said he only came here the one time. When he came to her for advice about —

Oh, dammit. There it is again, and Anders wonders if he’ll ever escape. Is he doomed to see Helen wherever he goes?

Not here. Dawn’s house is soft and feminine, nothing like the sleek darkness of Helen’s bar or his own minimalist apartment. The furniture doesn’t match precisely and there’s no unifying theme to the decorations, but that’s all right; that adds to the charm. It’s comforting and homey, and it’s exactly what he needs right now.

“I don’t have a guest room,” Dawn says apologetically, “so I hope you’ll be all right on the couch. I do have a good blanket, though.”

“You sure your cat won’t mind?” he quips.

Dawn smiles for the first time that evening, and internally breathes a sigh of relief. “I don’t have a cat.”

“Hmm.” Anders feels himself smile too, which is surprising, but he doesn’t have the energy to keep up his end of the banter, so he falls silent again. It’s a different sort of silence, though — companionable and comfortable, with no expectations. He’s fragile and she knows this, and what’s more, what makes it even more remarkable, is that she _cares_ and wants him to be better.

He wonders if she is the first person who has wanted the best for him. Certainly the first in recent memory.

(Anders would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a twinge of guilt at the whole thing; considering the way he’s treated Dawn, she’d be well within her rights to leave him to his own devices and go on her way, but she _didn’t_ and that’s what he loves about her.)

He hears the refridgerator door open, and then footsteps approaching; Dawn hands him a beer and then sits down on the chair facing the couch.

(Dimly, Anders remember sitting there when he came here to — no, not again. He will not think of that anymore). 

“I’m not going to ask you what happened,” she says, twisting the lid of her bottle off. “And I’m not going to say ‘I told you so.’ Even though I’d be perfectly right.”

“You would,” Anders acknowledges. Then, “why?” he asks, and he’s not sure what he’s asking. Why was Dawn right? What had she known? Why had he sent her away when she was the only one who could see the situation for what it was? Why had she dragged his sorry ass back to her house, when she was perfectly in the right to leave him to his own devices? Why had this whole fucked-up situation happened in the first place?

Dawn shrugs, a small smile. “Because…you’re a prick. But you didn’t deserve what she did to you.”

“Natalie.”

“Her as well.”

“Helen?” The surprise is evident in his voice.

“This isn’t what you want to hear right now, but I’m going to tell you anyway.” She takes another sip of beer, almost as if she’s steadying herself. Anders has never seen this side of her before: quiet, determined, and so compassionate that it almost hurts. Had she always been like this?

“Back in uni, I - I dated. A lot. Kind of a sheltered upbringing, and then suddenly free, you know? I mean, I wasn’t a slut, I just…went out with plenty.”

“As you do,” Anders nods.

“Right. And one of those men - God, I can still remember his face - he got…weird. Calling at all hours of the day and night. Coming over to the flat uninvited. It was sweet, and loving, and affectionate, at first, and I loved the attention. I’d never had any like it before - sheltered, remember?”

“At first,” Anders said, picking up on those two little words.

“Mmm. Then it started getting weird. He never left me alone, not for a single day. A single hour, it felt like. Then he tried to drive my friends away. Said that all I needed was him. It took awhile - I had a lot of friends in uni, believe it or not. And those friends tried to tell me that something was wrong. I thought they were mental - they were just jealous. That’s what he told me, anyway, and I believed it. He said that if they were true friends, they’d want me to be happy. And since he made me happy, then…and yet, that whole time, there was something, in the back of my mind, telling me that this was wrong.”

Anders can feel a twisting in the pit of his stomach as he knows where the story is going.

“Eventually, I came to my senses,” she smiles softly. “And he didn’t get killed, or die, even. He did take it hard, though; kept coming around for ages even after I told him I never wanted to see him again. But eventually he stopped, and life went on.”

“As it does,” he says, though he feels numb. A sick wave of guilt washes over him as the full implications of Dawn’s words hits him. There’s the usual rage and guilt at himself - now, for even daring to connect Helen to the man Dawn described. What did she know, anyway? Helen wasn’t anything like that. Besides…there were other forces at work than simply some mortal shithead’s obsession with his pretty girlfriend. 

Oh. Now where did that thought come from? Anders wonders, at the same time as he identifies at least part of his anger as being toward this unnamed shithead. 

(And another part of him, that he uncomfortably chokes down and won’t admit to, _understands_ because he feels it too - that urge, that instinct to keep Dawn for himself and never lose her to anyone else - not even Ty).

“As it does,” she nods. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbles, and he doesn’t know why he does. It’s a thought that flits through his head dozens of times a day (when he’s sober), but he’s always pushed it away. It isn’t a matter of deserving - he’s a god; she should consider herself lucky to work for him. Or so the cool, smooth voice whispering at the back of his mind always told him. Now that it’s gone silent, he doesn’t know what to think.

“No, you don’t,” Dawn replied, not unkindly. “But if I don’t look after you, who will?”

She realizes her mistake only a second after she says it, and she cringes. “That’s…that’s not what I meant at all,” she flounders, but Anders waves her off. 

“Not exactly untrue,” he says ruefully. “Guess that just means I’m lucky to have you.”

She smiles again. “You are, at that.” She stands. “And with that, I think it’s time to turn in. Toilet’s down the hall on the left.”

Anders nodds his thanks and watches her retreating back until she turns into her own bedroom. Then he kicks off his shoes and stretches out on the couch, pulling the blanket over himself in one smooth motion.

Anders, as a rule, is not a good sleeper. More often than not there are nights when his mind just won’t switch off, with Bragi chattering loudly in his head. Those are the nights he doesn’t want to admit to, when he finds peace in the bottom of a bottle or the pills he keeps locked securely in his bedside drawer. So he’s fully prepared to lay awake, wondering at this strange turn of events. 

But to his surprise, he falls asleep straight away, and for the first time in a long time, his dreams are untroubled.

~~~

Dawn closes the door to her bedroom and breathes out slowly through her nose.

Why, Anders had asked. Why indeed. She had no answer. Other than, it seemed the right thing to do at the time, and even know she isn’t regretting her decision, only questioning it.

And telling him about Alan…! She hadn’t told anyone about that. Not ever. Not even her best friends in Auckland. She’d hidden it away, out of anger, out of shame, and had long since resolved to never tell anyone that she’d even been manipulated by someone like that.

No one manipulates Dawn Larsson. 

That still doesn’t explain why her boss is currently sleeping on her couch, other than the fact that in that moment, she’d seen Alan again, all over again, but looking from the outside in this time. Anders might be a prick, he might be a womanizing ass, an alcoholic and a cocaine fiend, but he doesn’t deserve that. 

As uncertain as she is about things when it comes to Anders, she’s sure he doesn’t deserve that.

She turns out the light and lays down, but doesn’t sleep for a long time.

~~~

Anders opens his eyes slowly, taking in the unfamiliar room with it’s comforting, floral scent. Memories from the night before come flooding back, and he closes his eyes again, willing the floor to open up and swallow him.

But at least that all-encompassing guilt seems to have fled for the moment. He’ll count that as a victory.

Dawn is still asleep, and for a moment, he considers leaving, rather than facing the inevitable awkwardness. Half a second later he remembers that she drove him here last night and his car is still at the office. Fuck. 

Well, in that case, make the best of it. He knows all about how to do that.

Dawn is as ridiculously organized at home as she is at the office, so finding breakfast materials isn’t hard. Contrary to what he’s sure nearly everyone thinks, Anders is a fairly competent cook, and before long has a fairly decent spread.

He looks up to find Dawn watching him, a look that’s a cross between confusion, amusement and genuine affection on her face. He shrugs. 

“Thanks,” he says simply.

“Thank you,” she answers. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“No one does,” he shrugs again.

They eat in silence, and Dawn has to admit that it is very good. She clears the dishes, and Anders is struck, suddenly, by how achingly _domestic_ the scene is. He shakes his head to distract himself.

“So,” Dawn says when it’s all finished. “What now?”

“Now? We go back to work.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if Dawn seems a little out-of-character here. There will be a reason for it eventually!


	5. Chapter 5

Back to work, as Anders soon finds out, is optimistic at best. 

To say that he regrets the trip to Norway is a serious understatement. Not only for the most obvious reasons, either. Dawn had not been exaggerating in the slightest when she’d told him his clients were angry. Yes, he’d managed to smooth a lot of them down since his return, no small thanks to Bragi, but the damage was done and he knows he will have to work hard to regain the trust that was broken. 

He thinks he might have an advantage with his newer clients, then ones he’d gained with Helen. A fresh start, a chance to turn things around. An oil company, after all, is a valuable client to have, and he’d, as he’d put it, had them thoroughly drilled. 

But that was with Bragi.

 _It doesn’t matter,_ he thinks stubbornly. _I can do this. I can still pull this off._

He ignores the little stabs of guilt that twists in his belly when he looks at the folders for his newest clients, and remembers the lunch with them and Helen, the one he hadn’t paid for. It made sense at the time, it really did. So why does the memory fill him with disgust?

Or the time he’d let Bragi convince the director of a local production company to take a chance on one of his clients, a known washed-up, booze-hound actress, only to bail on her when she (predictably) flamed out during filming?

Or the way that he dropped every project he was working on to come running when his brothers called him.

He laughs to himself without humour. Well, there’s a problem he won’t be having any time soon. Thank God for small favours, eh. 

Not that it matters. It’s not like he has any projects currently going anyway. His empty blackboard stares back at him, mocking him with its blankness. He does not look at the small pile of bills in front of him. Rent, electricity, courier, printers, at least three different credit cards. All marked PAST DUE. 

He calculates quickly in his head. There’s enough to pay them off, if he’s careful, but barely. That’s only this month, though, and the month is half over. Even with the most creative accounting, he can’t make it work. 

Anders leans back in his chair, closes his eyes, and lets it wash over him. Cut your losses. Close the firm. Lose everything. 

The thought doesn’t hurt as much as it should. The firm’s been limping along for the past few months, even before he went off to Norway. Anders is a brilliant PR person. He just hasn’t had the time to do what he does best. 

Fuck god shit. Fuck Odin, fuck Frigg, fuck Idunn, and all the rest. So much work, and what has it ever done for him, besides get him a few free meals and a few easy lays? 

He thinks, with a sudden pang, that he would give it all up just to be a normal family. 

(Which is ridiculous, because they could be as mortal as can be and they would never be “normal”. Not as long as Anders is alive. The thought hurts more than it should.)

Dawn appears in front of him, holding a steaming hot cup of coffee. Anders takes it from her with a nod of thanks, and she sits down on the couch. He sips at the drink, building up his courage.

“I think you should find a new place to work,” he says quietly at last.

Dawn raises her eyebrow. “Are you firing me again? What is this, the fourth time? Fifth?” He wonders at the lack of anger in her voice. She’s amused, more than anything. He doesn’t know how to feel about that.

“No,” he answers. “I’m…shutting down the business.”

“Ah.” Clearly not the answer she’d been expecting. “Well…I’m not going to say I told you so. But I did try to warn you.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I know. Nothing I can do about it now.”

“But what will you do?” Dawn asks, then frowns. “Sorry. Not my business.”

It isn’t, but he answers anyway. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something, I guess. I’ll be fine. I always am.”

“Yeah, you are,” she says. _But something’s changed._  

He pauses. Then, “Thanks. For…last night. Again.”It doesn’t come naturally to him, to say thanks. Not real, genuine thanks, anyway; something that can’t be expressed with flower arrangements and gift baskets. 

“You said that already,” she smiles, keeping the tone light, but she senses his meaning too.

“I know. It’s just…these last few days…it’s like, everything’s changed, you know?” Now there’s an understatement if he’s ever heard one. Change doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Yeah. It’ll be weird, you know?” Dawn muses. “Going to work in a new place. Where things are normal. Organized. Efficient. Where I’m not expected to paint  vodka logo on an erupting volcano.” Her lips quirks up in a smile.

“It wasn’t erupting,” Anders rolls his eyes, ruthlessly quelling the pang in his stomach, both at his callousness toward Dawn that night, and the memory of what the real meaning of it was. But he smiles too, and realizes with a fierce rush just how much he is going to _miss_ Dawn.

“Will you go back home, then?” he asks. “To your mum?”

An odd look crosses her face. “I’m…I’m not sure. Haven’t decided yet. Maybe. Would rather stay in Auckland, though…a lot more opportunity here.”

Anders gets the distinct impression that she really, really does not want to talk about it. “There is,” he agrees.

“So when is this happening?”

“Tomorrow.” It’s the first time he’s said it aloud, really set a firm date, and it feels like a death sentence, but he knows its for the best. No sense in dragging this out.

“That soon.”

“Yeah. You’ll get a severance, if that’s what you’re worried about -“

“It’s not. Well, I mean, it is a bit.” She smiles again. “I mean, I’m gong to miss this. You.”

“Thought you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you! Not much, anyway,” Dawn says, and that alone is enough to make him laugh. Keep things normal. Keep it safe. 

“I just mean it’s going to be different,” she goes on. “Boring. Having to answer to everyone else.”

“Nah. Six months and you’ll be running the place.”

“Oh, please. Could you imagine?”

“Yes,” he says. “I can.”

Silence stretches between them. Anders sips his coffee nervously, and tries to think of a way to get this back on track, instead of the weirdly sincere mood that has taken over. 

(And he realizes, with a certain sense of clarity, that even if Bragi had been with him right at this very moment, he still wouldn’t have used Bragi, because Bragi was never like this, Bragi never really understood)

He surprises himself by saying, “I’ll miss you too.”

(And he can’t help but wonder if Bragi would have let him say that.)

“Really. I know I wasn’t the best boss, or the best…person, but, I’ll miss you, Dawn.”

Dawn looks surprised, but to her credit she smoothes her features and smiles. “Not something I thought I’d ever hear you say.”

“Yeah well I’m…humble pie, and all that.” 

“Oh, that’s not what I meant, really…” and she actually looks _worried_ , like she might have hurt his feelings, and when was the last time that happened?

“It’s fine,” he says, with an easy smile, because he knew she didn’t. “It’s…it’s good, maybe. Fresh start.”

“Are you staying here?”

Anders freezes; Dawn’s innocent question unlocking a flood of thoughts in his mind. _Are you staying here?_ It’s on the tip of his tongue to say, yes, of course, he has to stay in Auckland, but then it occurs to him - he _doesn’t._ The business is done. His flat is unsafe. His brothers hate him. Fuck, he’s even quasi-mortal now. (He wishes he could ask Olaf about that, but he doesn’t dare. Besides, like Olaf would know). 

Leave Auckland. Fresh start. Away from god shit. Away from Gaia. 

Maybe that’s what he needs. Maybe that’s what they all need. It isn’t cowardice if it’s for the good of the family, right?

“Anders?” Dawn asks, concern in her voice. “Are you all right?”

He snaps back to awareness. “Sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “Ah, no.” It’s liberating. He feels a soaring in his chest (along with an odd ache, that he puts down to indigestion). 

“No?” she sounds genuinely surprised. “You’re leaving.”

“Yeah, I think I might.”

“Where?”

Good question. “Who knows?” he says, and there’s a smile on his lips now; he can’t help it. Get out of here, be free. No more god shit. “As far as I can get. Fuck, maybe I’ll go to Canada.” 

“That’s pretty far.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“And…would you ever come back? To visit?”

 _No_. The prospect of freedom looming over him is so strong that he just wants to shout it. No, never. He’s never coming back to Auckland; never coming back to New Zealand. Let Axl find his Frigg without him. Or not, Anders doesn’t care. Alive or dead, at least he’ll be free. 

“Maybe,” he says at last. “Who would I visit?”

“Your brothers?”

“Nah.” He hopes Dawn will leave that be. He doesn’t feel like getting into it, not when it’s so close to not mattering any more.

She doesn’t look at him. “You could visit me.”

“What?” That brings him up short. 

“You could come visit me,” she says again, quietly.

Anders licks his lips. Suddenly, just like that, the entire mood has shifted on its axis yet again.

“I could,” he agreed. Then, “I would. I will.” 

“Promise?”

“Promise.” It’s not a lie. 

“Good.”

Silence again, and this time Anders knows he should say something, but again, he draws a blank. Dawn still isn’t looking at him, but her fingers are twisting together and if he didn’t know her better he’d say that she was nervous, which is ridiculous because Dawn is never nervous. Not around him, anyway. Not because of him.

“Look…if you want to go, take the rest of the day off. There’s not much to do around here.”

She looks at him. “You sure you’ll be all right?”

“Yeah.” It’s not a lie. He feels better than he has in weeks. Months. “I’m going to be fine, Dawn. I’m going to be just fine.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, another chapter so soon? YES! See, with Season 3 starting soon I think I should probably hurry up with this fic, since the plotline I have planned with probably become completely unusable once it starts. So I'm going to try to go a bit faster.

There’s only one problem with planning an international move ( _escape)_ : most of his shit is still in his flat, and he’s going to have to go back there and get it. 

Anders unlocks the door with a feeling of trepidation, and that pisses him off. This is his flat, _his_ , and if there’s anywhere in the world he shouldn’t feel scared, it’s here.

He half-expects the body to still be there, and he imagines he can still faintly smell the sharp tang of blood in the air. But Forseti had done what he’d promised he would, and taken care of everything. The kitchen is spotlessly clean, with the distinct smell of bleach. He has nothing to worry about on that front. 

He shuts the door and locks it, and throws the deadbolt. For half a second he looks around for a chair or something to jam under the doorknob (like he used to do when they were little, when the shouting started), but there’s nothing and he tells himself he’s being ridiculous. The god-hunters are likely long gone, or after far more valuable targets than the exiled god of poetry. 

He won’t feel guilty. Not about this. Not about Helen, or Gaia, or the god-hunters, or anything else. Not any more. And he won’t feel guilty about leaving, either. 

He looks around the flat. Nothing’s changed, other than the kitchen being cleaned. The container of fish food catches his eye, and with a rush of panic he realizes it’s been days since he fed his fish.

Fuck.

FUCK.

The poor, stupid things. Anders has never cared for much in his life, but for some inexplicable reason, he’s always loved his fish. And now, they were dead. Yet another thing that’s his fault, and maybe they are only fish, but on top of everything else it’s almost more than he can take; they’re dead, they’re dead they’re —

— Perfectly fine, swimming happily around the plastic tank decorations. Flakes of food sit on top of the water. 

 _Dawn_ , he thinks to himself, swallowing down the lump of cold fear in his throat. _Dawn fed them. She must have._  

But he’s been with Dawn almost constantly over the past 24 hours, his mind reminds him. When could she have slipped out and done it?

_One of the others then. Ty, maybe._

Possible. Unlikely. Ty might be mortal now, but Anders is willing to bet that he’s participating in his banishment as well. 

A sudden noise from the bedroom nearly makes him jump out of his skin, and he looks around desperately for something to use as a weapon. His hand lands on the knife block beside the fridge. Perfect. He draws out a carving knife and waits.

“Anders?”

Oh, no. No, no, no…

“You should _not_ be here,” he grinds out.

“Why?” Gaia asks. “I think this is the only place I _should_ be.”

Anders puts the knife down on the counter. “Get out.”

“I fed your fish.”

“How the fuck did you even get in here?”

“I stole the key you gave Axl. Who doesn’t have a key to your place?”

Fair enough point. “You still shouldn’t be here. Go home.”

“I’d rather stay here.” 

Obviously, he’s not getting rid of her so easily. Anders sighs, then opens the fridge and pours himself a glass of vodka. On second thought, he pours her one too.

Gaia accepts the tumbler with a nod of thanks, and sits down on the couch to drink it. Anders stays standing, wanting to keep as much distance between them as possible, trying to ignore the warm little flutters in his chest. He can’t deny that Gaia is beautiful, but she’s not his type and more than that she’s _Axl’s girlfriend_ and he won’t try anything with her. 

No matter what Bragi has to say about it.

“Don’t,” she says. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t come here to get it from you too.”

“Get…what?”

Gaia rolls her eyes. “Sympathy.”

Anders doesn’t understand at all, but he isn’t going to pursue the point. To do so would be to keep her here, and he just wants her gone. 

“Does Axl know you’re here?” he asks. Irrational fear blooms in his mind.

“Axl is _not_ my keeper.”

_No, but he’s Odin, and he’s strong, and right now he’s incredibly pissed at me, and I’ve had enough of being thrown around._

Tentatively, he sits down on the couch across from her, and doesn’t meet her eyes. “I still don’t know why you’re here,” he says at last.

“Why do you _think_? I’m Idunn! It’s all I can think about! Idunn and Bragi, Bragi and Idunn. You’re Bragi. So here I am.”

“I’m not Bragi right now,” Ander says, even though he’s not so sure. The flutters at the edges of his mind have turned into warm tendrils creeping into his consciousness. Bragi is coming to life inside him, drawn close to the presence of Idunn, even despite Odin’s orders. 

(If he were a stronger man, Anders would send her away right now. But he’s not, and he hates himself for it.)

“You’re not even supposed to be Idunn,” he says, as if that makes any sort of difference at all.

“Stop it,” Gaia rolls her eyes again. “That’s all I’ve been hearing these last few days. Everyone’s falling all over themselves to apologize to me, and to tell me that they’re doing everything they can to fix it. Well, what if I don’t want to be fixed? Maybe I like being Idunn. Maybe I never wanted to be Frigg or Papatuanuku in the first place. I really didn’t, you know. Didn’t want to be any goddess, actually, but here I am.”

“Here you are. But you shouldn’t be.”

“So you keep saying. You were all set to marry me off to Axl when you thought I was Frigg, because Odin and Frigg, remember? So why is it different for Idunn and Bragi?”

“No one is going to die if Idunn and Bragi don’t get together!” Anders says in disbelief. “And it’s different because…because…you’re my _little brother’s girlfriend!_ You should be with him! Go home, Gaia.”

“Fuck me.”

“No!”

(Even though Bragi is screaming in his head, _yes yes yes!)_

“You don’t want this,” Anders says. 

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me what I want and what I don’t want,” Gaia snaps. “What I _want_ is for everyone to stop treating me like a mistake! I’m Idunn, whether everyone likes it or not, and I want to _do something_ with my power, even if it is just fucking you. No offence.” She leans toward him, and Anders swears he can smell apples. “Don’t you understand? I just want someone to appreciate who I am, not who I was supposed to be.”

She’s over beside him faster than he can blink, and Anders doesn’t know what to say because it makes _so much sense_ that it hurts, and Bragi is roaring back into consciousness, filling his mind with the singular urge to pin Gaia down on the couch and fuck her until he can’t anymore. 

Her kiss is sweet and dark, and he’s helpless to resist. Even as the conscious part of him is trying to pull back, Bragi is stronger, his love for Idunn a magnetic pull that can’t be denied. It feels better than it has any right to, and Anders can’t get it out of his head that this is what Axl felt, this is what Axl should be feeling now. 

Gaia pulls back and now he definitely does smell apples, light and sweet without being overpowering. She stands up and walks toward his bedroom, giving him a meaningful look over her shoulder.

 _I’ve come this far,_ he thinks. _What more can it hurt?_ And he follows her, stripping off his clothes on they way.

Gaia is _not_ his type. True to his Norwegian heritage, Anders does prefer them blonde and willowy. But making love to Gaia feels _right,_ feels _complete_ , even if it’s only Bragi that feels that way. The god inside him is warm and heady and he’s tempted to run outside and find someone, _anyone_ to use his powers on, in any way possible. The ouside world falls away, and for awhile he forgets everything: the business, his brothers, Dawn…for a few sweet minutes, there is nothing but Bragi and Idunn.

“This can’t happen again,” Anders says after it’s all over and Gaia has rolled over to lie beside him. 

“It’s going to.”

“It _can’t_ ,” he stresses.

She props herself up on one elbow. “I thought you were always up for it.”

“Not when it’s my little brother’s girlfriend. I don’t do that shit.” A lie, technically, but whatever. 

Gaia sighs. “I’m not so sure I even am his girlfriend. He won’t even look at me. I don’t think he’s pissed off at me, but he isn’t exactly helping, you know?”

Anders has no idea what to say to that. Relationships have never been his forte. So he turns to the one thing he does know. “Besides. I’m leaving.”

“I’ll come.”

“The hell you will. I’m leaving New Zealand. By myself. And I’m not coming back, so this won’t be happening again.” 

“Then maybe we should do it again, just for old time’s sake?”

Bragi is fading away now, leaving that cold, empty hole in his chest, and Anders has to fight hard to resist the urge to take her up on her offer, if only to get Bragi back, even for a minute. 

“No, Gaia,” he says, and stands up. “Go home. Go back to Axl. It’s where you belong.”

He pointedly ignores her as she says something about Idunn and Bragi again. It’s more than he can bear - one more word about it and he _will_ take her again, whether either of them wants it or not, and he can’t let that happen. Bad enough that it happened once. Instead, he gets up and puts on a pair of sweatpants and a Tshirt, and leaves her in the bedroom.

Stepping back into the living room is like a breath of cool air. Bragi’s influence is nearly gone, leaving only a sense of guilt that he pushes to the back of his mind with the ease of years of practise. His laptop bag is where he’d left it, on the floor by the door and he picks it up, deliberately sitting down at the table rather than the couch. Less temptation. 

He can hear Gaia shuffling around in the bedroom, getting dressed, and a shameful sense of loss washes over him. 

(Even though he knows it’s not _him,_ Anders but _him,_ Bragi, it’s wrong and disturbing all the same). 

To distract himself, he opens his computer. Immediately he’s assaulted with a dozen emails from angry clients, vendors, creditors, and so on, but he can ignore those for now, although he supposes he’ll have to let them know at some point that j:pr no longer exists. Preferably when he’s already on the plane to who-knows-where. 

Speaking of which…where to? Anders has the momentary, amusing idea of throwing darts at a globe to decide, but he lacks a globe. And darts. North America is as good a place as any. It’s a start, at least. 

“You’re really doing it, then?”

He starts at Gaia’s soft voice behind him. “Yeah. Really doing it.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Soon as fucking possible.”

“Won’t your brothers miss you?”

Anders can’t help but laugh. “They can’t wait to be shot of me.”

“Dawn will miss you.”

At this, he turns to face her. “She’s better off without me.”

A pause, as if she’s trying to figure out if she should tell him something. Then:

“You said her name.”

“What?”

“When we…were doing it. You said her name.”

Anders sits back against the chair, feeling a bit stunned. He tries to think back - it’s all a blur, and all he can really remember is _Idunn_ , but in his mind’s eye Idunn is a blonde, grey-eyed woman who smells nothing at all like apples, not the slight Maori girl in front of him, or the rich, auburn that was Helen. Which is ridiculous, because Dawn is pure and wonderful, nothing like a goddess at all.

_Stop it. Stop it right now._

“You should go,” he says at last. “Thanks for the fuck. Bragi appreciates it.”

“Anytime,” Gaia shrugs,  and he _shudders_ as Bragi flutters inside him. He holds tight to the tabletop, knuckles turning white, to keep himself from doing something he would regret. Again. 

Finally, _finally_ she’s gone, and Anders breathes a sigh of relief. All he can hear now is his heartbeat. 

Right. Back to planning. The logical, methodical process of gathering information and putting it together calms him, as it always does when he’s in a mood to work, and he barely notices the pssing of time until his phone rings, startling him. 

He freezes - it’s Dawn. It must be. Who else would be calling? 

He really, really, does not want to speak to Dawn right now. Not when…if he really did…

But the Caller ID saves him from that line of thinking. It’s not Dawn.

“Olaf,” Anders greets.

“Be ready tomorrow night,” Olaf says. “I’m calling a Thing.”


	7. Chapter 7

Closing down the office is surprisingly difficult. Although Anders is glad for the change (and he _is,_ he tells himself, he really is), over the 8 years that j:pr has been in business, the office had become almost a second home for him. 

There’s very little in the way of actual work to be done, so he recruits Dawn into helping him clean up and pack. She’s better at it, anyway. Anders has never considered himself to be sentimental in the least, but  for some reason he finds it hard to throw away mementos of previous works. Posters, mugs, keychains…all crap that has no place in his life anymore, but he finds himself hesitating each one, remembering the victory. (And if some of those victories came with nights spent with beautiful women, all the better. Or so he tells himself.) 

Cleaning up gives him another advantage, in that he doesn’t have to make conversation with Dawn, aside from “toss that, keep this”. He’s still rattled from the night before, and doesn’t know what to make of it. Sleeping with Gaia is bad enough (and he can only hope that that won’t come up at the Thing tonight), but saying the wrong name?

Not like that’s never happened to him before, of course. It’s actually quite common, and ordinarily he wouldn’t even care, except this time it’s _Dawn_ and that’s just so wrong. It isn’t like that, between them. He doesn’t feel like that toward her at all.

(Although he would be lying if he said he’d never noticed her in that way, and hurriedly shoved down those feelings that he couldn’t quite identify. It isn’t lust, with Dawn. He doesn’t feel that way for her at all.)

To his chagrin, she notices him staring.

“What?”

“Nothing!” he says, a little too quickly and a little too forcefully, and he knows she doesn’t believe him for a second. Still, though, he doubts she can guess what’s really on his mind. He hopes not, at least - Dawn has put up with a lot of shit from him, but this might be the final straw.

Not that it really matters. After tonight, he’ll never see her again. 

He’s trying not to think about tonight. The Thing is looming ever closer, and he wants nothing more than to book a flight _right now right this very minute_ to get away from it. Not that that would work. 

 _We need to work this out,_ Olaf had said, and Anders can’t disagree - they do need to work this out. They need to see that it’s not his fault this happened, and it’s not Bragi’s either, so the banishment is totally uncalled for an should be reversed. 

For the first time he feels a glimmer of hope. 

“Have you decided yet?”

Anders blinks; caught unaware for the second time. This is becoming a habit. “What?”

“Where you’re going. Have you decided where you’re going when you leave Auckland?”

“Oh…no. I’ve been a bit distracted. Family stuff.”

“What do they think?”

“They don’t know.”

She puts down the poster she’s holding and turns to look at him, eyebrow raised. “They don’t know? And when were you planning to tell them?”

He smirks. “When I’m on a plan halfway around the world.”

Dawn laughs too, because she believes him; even while Anders knows that no matter how much he might want to do that, it’s going to come up at the Thing tonight. 

The office looks bare and empty when they’re finally done. Anders is a minimalist by nature; but even to him the lines are too angular, too stark, too full of reminder of how far he’s fallen. 

“Looks wrong,” Dawn says softly, picking up on his thoughts. 

“Yeah, it does,” he agrees. “Wasn’t supposed to end this way, but here we are.” 

“Here we are.” She grins suddenly. “Let’s go out. Let’s celebrate…or, or something.”

He quirks an eyebrow at her. “Celebrate finally getting rid of me?”

“That’s not how I meant it,” Dawn says, rolling her eyes. 

“I can’t,” he says regretfully, because awkward or not, there really is nothing he’d rather do than go out with Dawn. “I’ve got a family thing.”

“Oh? I thought they didn’t know about this.”

“They don’t. It’s about something else. I don’t know, you know how I feel about family shit.”

“They’re going to find out!”

“Of course they will. When I’m in California.”

“Thought you were going to Canada.”

“Canada, California, New York, it’s all the same.”

“Ooh, go to New York. I’ve always wanted to visit there.” Dawn stops abruptly as she realizes what she said. An awkward silence settles over them. 

“New York it is, then,” Anders says at last. He can sense the change in the air, but for once, he doesn’t know what to make of it. 

“Great! Well, that’s settled, then!” Her cheeriness sounds forced. 

“Yeah. And, you can get going, then. Not much left to do here but lock up.” He swallows. “Thanks, Dawn. For…for everything.” _For putting up with me, for putting up with Bragi, for letting me use you the way I did and never leaving…until Ty got his hands on you…_ he stops that line of thinking sharply. It’s unhelpful and it makes that shard of guilt in his belly twist again, for reasons he can’t quite explain.

“Thank you,” Dawn says. “For hiring me. Actually, you were the only person who even gave me an interview, but, I appreciated it, and I still do. Even if the job was _not_ what I thought I was going to be.”

“You mean you never thought you’d draw a vodka logo on a volcano?”

“Not an erupting one!”

“It wasn’t erupting, and you were fine.”

“Yeah…I was.” Dawn goes silent with a frown that says she’s thinking about something. “You’ve never met my mother, have you?”

“What?” He’s too confused by this abrupt subject-change to think of anything more coherent. “No…?”

“Right, well…” She shrugs sheepishly, as if just realizing how strange the question was. “She’s very…domineering, to say the least. I love her, don’t get me wrong, it’s just…she’s always been this huge _force_ in my life, like I could never go anywhere or do anything without her approving of it. And then when I was 21 I moved to Auckland and I was free of her, but I _wasn’t_ really. I was still the uptight, good-girl that my mother always wanted, and I _hated it._ Then you hired me, and it was like…suddenly I was doing all these things that were so wrong and so scandalous…and I liked it.”

 _It wasn’t me you liked,_ he thinks with a sudden realization that hits him like a stone sinking in his stomach. _It was Bragi, it was all Bragi._  

She looks away again, before looking back with a devilish smile. “I had the _worst_ crush on you when I first started working here.”

It’s something Anders had suspected, but it’s still shocking to hear it said out loud, so brazenly, especially from Dawn. “Did you?”

“Yes. I did.”

“But you never said anything…”

She rolls her eyes. “Please. With all those models and actresses and vodka girls hanging off you?”

“Ah.” He feels a roil of guilt and shame. “They were nothing,” he finds himself saying. “They were just slags. You’re better than them in a hundred different ways.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not.” _For once, I’m not lying. Not this time._

“Hm,” She looks away again. “Not that it matters…I have a rule: I never, ever get involved with a co-worker. Especially not my boss. I never have. Not even when I was sixteen and my boss was the captain of the uni rugby team. Not even then.”

“I see…”

“But,” Dawn says with a smile that can be described as devilish. “I did say that you make me do things I thought I’d never do.”

Her kiss is sudden and soft, and all of a sudden it seems like something _click_ s into place in Anders’ mind, like this is something that is so perfectly natural, that should have happened a long time ago. Even as a part of him is screaming _no, this is wrong, you are meant to be with Ty and if anyone finds out, I’m dead_ the other part, the larger part, never wants this to end. 

It does, of course. Dawn pulls back and looks away, unable to meet his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Anders says. For the first time, he’s left a little bewildered after a kiss, but there’s a sense of triumph too. _I didn’t Bragi her into that._ “Yeah. You are definitely better than all those slags.”

She giggles, and he can’t help himself but pull her in for another kiss. He’s half expecting her to resist - after all, she’d said she _did_ have a crush on him, past tense, and surely the years of poor treatment has erased it all, but surprisingly she goes willingly, kissing him back even more fiercely. 

This time, the part of his mind that tries to tell him it’s wrong is strangely silent.

At least, until they hear someone clearing his throat behind them.

They jump apart, like teenagers caught making-out by their parents, and Anders reflects wryly that that’s not exactly false. In the doorway stand Mike and Ty, and for one blinding, panicky second he thinks that this is it, Ty has seen him kissing Dawn, and is going to kill him, Bragi or no Bragi. 

But the spell holds. Ty rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed at catching his older brother in any sort of compromising position. Dawn is just another woman to him, and Anders finds that both somewhat depressing, and kind of impressed at his own cunning.

Mike, on the other hand. Mike looks _pissed_ and Anders knows that whatever is coming tonight, it isn’t going to be pleasant. Not that he ever thought it was going to be, but now there’s another layer of shit, and he has the half-mad thought of going to the toilet and escaping out the window.  

“Come on,” Mike says. “Time for the thing.” 

Anders gestures to the small box of things he’s keeping. “Can I put this in my car first?” 

Mike nods, so Anders picks up the box and turns to Dawn. He shrugs. “It’s been fun.”

“Yeah. Call me…if you’re ever in the area again.”

“I will,” he says, and turns his back for this can get any more awkward than it already is.

His car is parked just outside the door, and he dumps the box in the trunk without much ceremony. “I’ll just follow you there, yeah?” he says hopefully. “Where are we going, anyway? I hope it’s not mini-golf. I fucking hate mini-golf.”

“It’s not mini-golf,” Mike says. “And you’re not driving yourself there. Get in the truck.”

“And what am I supposed to do with my car?”

“I’ll drive you back to get it when we’re done. Now get in my truck.”

For a minute Anders debates arguing, saying that he doesn’t want to leave his car here unattended overnight, or some bullshit like that. But Mike will see right through him, and he leaves his car here all the time anyway, so it’s pointless. No, clearly the best thing to do now is to roll over and follow orders, and try to make it out of this as unscathed as possible. It chafes at him, but he knows that to have any sort of hope of getting Bragi back at all, this is what he needs to do.

Mike is silent during the drive, as he always is. Once or twice Ty looks over like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it. Clearly, he’s gotten back in the family’s good graces by virtue of Not Being Anders, so he isn’t going to blow it again. 

He’s surprised when they pull up to Mike’s bar. He hasn’t been to very many things, but he was under the impression that they take place in a neutral location. A feeling of claustrophobia settles over him as Mike parks. 

He thinks he would rather go mini-golfing.

Olaf and Axl are waiting for them inside. Axl tenses up when he sees him, and Anders can feel Bragi inside him, alternately reaching out and trying to get away. He knows exactly how his god feels. The feeling of unease only increases as Mike points to a seat at a table, wordlessly asking - telling - him to sit down. Anders does. 

“We need to talk,” Mike begins. “There’s been a lot of anger going around, and a lot of things have been said and done that maybe we didn’t mean. Let’s try to talk it out, because right now, more than ever, we need to stick together as a family.”

“You fucking banished me!” Anders snaps before he can stop himself. “Am I even part of this family?”

“Anders —“

“You fucked up! You fucked everything up!” Axl shouts back. 

“Axl —“

“How is that my fault? I didn’t ask to be hunted by a psychotic bitch! I lost someone too, you know!”

“Well maybe if you didn’t go to Norway you wouldn’t have caught their attention.”

“You don’t know that! Maybe they’ve been watching us for a long time. Besides, I brought back Yggdrassil, didn’t I? Doesn’t that count for anything? And I went their on _our mother_ ’s orders.”

“The mother you didn’t even have the courtesy to tell us about before shooting through on your grand adventure.”

“Yeah well _you killed her!_ ”

“ANDERS!” Mike’s voice cuts through sharply. “That isn’t helping. The simple fact is this: Gaia’s ceremony was disrupted. Se still need to find Frigg. Gaia is now Idunn, and I’m sure you can see why Axl is upset. Olaf and Ingrid are working to find out if there’s a way to force Idunn to leave, and Frigg to enter, but that’s going to take time.”

“Or maybe you can stop treating her like she’s a mistake, and put your efforts to finding the real Frigg.” 

“No one’s treating her like she’s a mistake —“

“That isn’t what she thinks!” It’s out of him before he can stop it, and Anders realizes his mistake. 

“And how would you know that?” Axl asks. He pushes away from the bar and stands up to his full height. Ty moves closer, though Anders doubts he could do anything if Axl got it into his head to attack. Which he just might. 

“We talked,” Anders says, lifting his chin a little in defiance. “The other night.”

“What _else_ did you do?”

“You’re not her keeper, and you’re not mine. I don’t have to tell you anything.” 

“I’m _Odin!”_

“And I’m not Bragi, so who gives a fuck!” So much for his plan of getting his god back. 

Axl lunges forward but Olaf and Ty grab his arms and hold him back. “You’re such a dick!” he snarls. 

“This is getting stupid,” Anders says. He stands up. “Look. You’re right - all of you. I’m a dick. I’m poison. I’m tearing the family apart. So, I’m leaving. You won’t have to deal with me anymore. I’ll never sleep with your girlfriend again. I’m getting out of here, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“No,” says Mike. 

“No?”

“No. And sit down.”

For a second, he almost does. Then a fresh surge of anger rushes through him. “No, fuck you all, I’m leaving.”

“Sit down, Anders,” Olaf says. “You can’t leave. We still need you. We don’t want you to go.” 

“Yes, you do.”

“No, we don’t. And I’m getting the sense that we will need Bragi again in the future.”

“Tough shit.”

“Sit down, and don’t fucking move,” Axl says. “Or you can forget about ever getting your god powers back.”

Slowly, Anders sits down. 

“We need to work _together_ ,” Olaf goes on. “We’re _gods_. And we’re _family_ \- we’re the only ones we have. So, we need to just…make peace.”

He seriously doubts that’s ever going to happen. “Fine,” he says at last. “Let’s make peace then. What do I have to do?”

“Stay in Auckland, for one,” Olaf says. “We will need you, Anders.”

“But Bragi is still banished,” Axl says. “And just, stay away from Gaia, yeah?”

“Tell her to stay away from me,” Anders mutters, and this time Ty and Olaf aren’t fast enough. Anders finds himself on the floor, his face stinging from Axl’s punch.  

Mike hauls him to his feet. “Let’s go,” he says, and drags him outside. 

His eye is beginning to swell shut so he staggers along after Mike, and is glad when they reach the truck.

“I suppose you’re going to say I deserved that,” he says, trying not to touch his eye. 

“Not going to say you didn’t.” Mike starts the truck and, true to form, drives in silence until they pulled up at what used to be j:pr

“I closed the business,” Anders says. 

“Not surprising.”

“I didn’t, you know,” Anders says suddenly. “I didn’t cheat and fuck my way through uni. Fuck, I didn’t even become Bragi until I was already graduated. So don’t give me that shit, Mike. You know it’s not true.”

“What’s going on between you and Dawn?” Mike asks, abruptly changing the subject.

“What?”

“You know Ty loved her, Anders. Why would you do that? You’ve already stolen Axl’s girlfriend.”

“You prick.” Red hot anger wells up in his vision. “I didn’t _steal_ anyone! She doesn’t belong to Ty! She doesn’t even fucking _remember_ him!”

“This was your plan all along! That’s why you worked your powers on him! You fucking _prick!_ ”

“I did it so he could finally _let go_ and find happiness! He was so mired in the past, he needs to make a fresh start! Or he’ll end up like you!” Anders spits, and gets out of the truck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww yiss some Danders action all up in hurr 
> 
> And don't you just love when you go to a "family meeting" and it ends up just being a shit-on-you session? /rolleyes


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, last chapter before season 3 starts!!
> 
> I'll put this in the story notes too, but I'll put it here as well: I'm probably not going to be following Season 3 canon too closely, simply because I already had this story all plotted out and I rather like this plotline I've come up with XD. I'll try to include as much canon information as I can (especially if poor Dawn ever gets a canon last name), but it basically will be an AU from this point on.

What had she been _thinking?_

Kissing Anders was wrong. Just wrong. For a hundred different reasons: he’s her boss, he’s just lost his wife, he’s fucking _Anders Johnson,_ which really should just be reason enough.

Still though. Dawn would be lying if she said the memory of it hadn’t crossed her mind at least twenty times just today. 

Typical Anders. Just won’t leave her alone no matter how hard she tries. Which was stupid, really, because he is long gone from her life. 

She won’t say that she misses him, exactly, but…she does miss him. This new side of him over the past few days has been almost perfect; exactly what she’d first been attracted to in the first place. 

Then she feels guilty - he’s acting like that because he’s just lost his wife, and his business, not because of some great change in heart. He’s in _mourning_. 

And then she’d gone and kissed him. 

 _Way to make things awkward,_ she thinks for the millionth time. _Way to ruin everything._

Her only saving grace is that she’ll never have to see him again. 

Somehow, that isn’t much of a comfort. 

The only thing to do is stop thinking about it. Full stop. It’s over, it’s done, he’s gone, and that’s that. Probably for the best, even. She’d only ever met his brothers briefly, in passing, but she couldn’t forget the look in the oldest one’s eyes when he’d walked in on them. It still makes her shiver. 

She doesn’t like to think of herself as a judgemental person, per se, but Anders’ brothers give her the creeps. And not only because the younger one showed up on her doorstep and pledged his undying love (although that hadn’t exactly endeared him to her). 

But it doesn’t matter. Anders Johnson and his brothers are no longer her concern _thank you very much_ , and Dawn is going to get on with her life. He was thoughtful enough to provide her with an excellent letter of reference, and Dawn knows she’ll have no trouble being hired on at any place she applies to. Anders’ reputation as mildly insane will work in her favour: if she can put up with him, she can put up with anyone. 

The problem is, she doesn’t _want_ to put up with just anyone. Which is why she finds herself poring over job listings the morning after the end of j:pr and not finding even one that looks appealing. Everything is the same: answer phones, make coffee, book travel. Not a single one involves painting logos on mountains or chasing down blackmailers or cleaning the boss’s apartment.

(Not that she really wants that last one. Anders could be a horrible slob when he wanted to be, and she will _not_ miss picking up after him, but if the thought that he trusted her with something so intimate as free reign of his house made her smile, well, no one has to know that.)

But all the wishing and sighing in the world won’t change the situation, so she’ll just have to carry on and find a new job.

Right. Okay. 

The phone rings. She jumps. 

“Ms Larsson?” the voice on the other end is smooth. Full of power. 

“Speaking.”

“I understand that you’ve been working as Anders Johnson’s PA for the past 8 years, is that correct?”

A warning prickle began in her mind. “Yes, it is. Who is this please?”

The man chuckled. “Of course. My name is Anthony Emerson, from Sanderson and Associates PR. I’m sure you’ve heard of us.”

Of course she has. Sanderson and Associates is - was - their biggest rival. Even at it’s peak, j:pr couldn’t quite measure up.

“I see,” she continues on carefully. 

“It’s unfortunate that your firm has shut down, but I see this as an opportunity. For you. I could use someone like you working for me. I assure you, the pay and benefits are quite generous.”

“O-oh.” It’s not what she was expecting. Of course she’s always known that she’ll have to join with another firm eventually, but Sanderson and Associates? It feels like betrayal, which is ridiculous. 

“I’d like to bring you in for an interview, if you’re interested, Ms Larsson. How does tomorrow afternoon sound?”

 _So soon?_ She wants to protest, but luckily her better sense kicks in. “Of course. Tomorrow afternoon. It will be a pleasure.”

She hangs up the phone with a sharp _click_ , and sags back against the wall, sighing in what she isn’t sure is happiness or relief or grief. 

Logically, she knows this is a great thing. Full-time employment with a stable firm, good pay and benefits, and reasonable hours. It’s everything she could want, and what’s more, if Anders were here he would tell her to go for it. Even he wouldn’t see it as betrayal, _especially_ since he’s no longer around.

Dawn has nothing to feel guilty for. Really. 

The rest of the night passes both slowly and quickly, in the way it only can when you have something you’re both dreading and looking forward to the next day. She’s just finished dinner when the doorbell rings.

She almost doesn’t answer it - she’s not expecting anyone, and she isn’t in the mood to talk to anyone anyway. But something at the last moment makes her change her mind. She opens the door, fully expecting to tell off any solicitor or religious fanatic on her doorstep. 

She isn’t expecting to find Anders there. 

“I thought you were in New York by now!” she says, pure surprise in her voice.

“Can I come in?” he asks, far more politely than the last time he turned up on her doorstep. She steps back to let him in. Was it only a few nights earlier that he’d been here? It seemed like ages ago.

He doesn’t waste time on pleasantries. There’s no need, not between them.

“Come back,” he says bluntly.

“Come back where?”

“To work for me. With me.” 

Dawn quirks her eyebrow at him. “I thought you shut down. We spent the day dismantling the office, remember?”

“I remember. And I’m not resurrecting j:pr, not yet.”

“Not yet?”

He sits down on her couch uninvited, and Dawn follows him, interested despite herself. Vaguely she remembers she’s supposed to have an interview tomorrow, but pushes that thought away.

“I’m not leaving Auckland. Change of plans, things fell through.” There’s a dark, almost angry look in his eyes for just a second, and then it’s gone. “New plan. I called up a friend of mine from uni. David Scollie - he’s up in Wellington now, but he’s got one of the biggest PR firms in the city, and he’s taken on new clients in Auckland. So naturally, he doesn’t want to travel between here and there every few days, so he’s hired me to look after his clients, with the option to buy-out after a year, if things go smoothly.”

“He’s letting you operate under his name. With the option to separate after a year and take his clients?” Dawn blinks. “How in the fuck did you manage that?” It sounds too good to be true.

“He owed me a favour, Dawn. A huge one.”

“Must have been.”

He nods, then shifts to face her, expression both earnest and serious. “Will you come back, Dawn? Not just…not just as my PA. Fuck, you did most of the work when we were in business. Come back with me, and you’ll be a publicist in your own right by the time we’re done.”

“I…” she falters. “I don’t know what to say…”

“Say yes,” he says, as though it’s the most reasonable, most obvious action in the world. He sighs. “I know that I wasn’t a good boss, and I did a lot of shit that I shouldn’t have, and asked a lot of you. Too much. That’s over now. I’ll be better now. I promise.”

The last is said with such a mixture of conviction and pleading that Dawn doesn’t know what to think. This isn’t the Anders she knows, but isn’t that a good thing? And hadn’t she been dreading working for anyone else? Suddenly, Sanderson and Associates seem a million miles away.

“Please, Dawn.” And oh, he must really want her, because Anders Johnson does not beg, but he certainly sounds like he is now. 

“Okay.” The word is out of her before she knows it, but it feels right, like it was the only possible thing she could say.

“Okay?” He almost sounds like he can’t believe her.

“Okay. Yeah. Sounds good.” She still isn’t wholly convinced that he will do half thing things he says he will - or won’t. But she does know that there’s no one else she would rather work with. It’s something she can’t explain, other than a sense of _rightness_ , which is totally inadequate but completely correct.

“Great! David is coming down from Wellington tomorrow to meet and sign papers - I’ll text you with the details, but we’ll be meeting him for dinner. And the lease is still good on the office until the end of the year, so…guess we packed up for nothing.”

“This is happening fast.”

“Not a moment too soon. By the end of the month we’ll be back up and going strong. A year from now, who knows where we’ll be. You’ll see, Dawn. You’ll see.”

“I suppose I will.”

He considers it for a moment, then a cheeky smirk spreads over his face. “Does this mean I get another kiss?”

Dawn laughs and throws a pillow at him. “You’ll have to earn it first.”

“That, I can do.”

~~~

David Scollie is a big, hearty, friendly man with a round, honest face and Dawn likes him immediately. He’s funny and genuine in a way that Anders never was, and yet over the course of the dinner, Dawn can sense a change in Anders that’s completely unconscious. He’s more open, more enthusiastic, more _happy_ and there are no sly sexual innuendos or an undertone of smarmy, oily confidence. He’s acting like a real person, like he was 8 years ago when Dawn first met him

(And fell in love with him, but she won’t think about that now.) 

The forms and documents are brought out after the dessert course, and this time, Dawn has no question at signing them. There’s nothing to question, nothing to doubt. This is the way things should be, need to be. Nothing can touch them now.

~~~

Anders doesn’t look up from the papers he’s reading when he hears the door open. It’s twenty past nine in the morning; Dawn isn’t due to start till nine-thirty but she’s always early. 

So’s he, these days. Or rather, he’s right on time, but ye gods, nine in the morning is a hellish time to begin working. 

“The Mitchell flyers are back from the printers,” he calls out. “I’ll need you to run out and pick those up in a bit.”

Business is booming in a way even Anders hadn’t expected. In only a week, three major clients had come aboard, and while they weren’t entirely pleased to find out that it’s Anders Johnson, known slacker and playboy who is handling their accounts, he’s managed to begin winning them over through sheer determination.

(And not Bragi, not at all this time, which feels far better than he ever thought it could)

“Dawn?” he calls again, when she doesn’t answer. “Did you—“

He breaks off as she comes around the blackboard. Her eyes are red and her face is pale, and she looks like she hasn’t slept.

“Are you —“ he’s about to say okay, but that is ridiculous because of course she isn’t, not at all.

“I need a few days off,” she says, her voice choked. “My mother died.” 


	9. Chapter 9

Anders picks up the phone. His finger hovers over the dial, just for a second, then with a sigh, he puts it down. Dawn’s at a _funeral_ \- the last thing she needs is a call from her boss-colleague-sort-of-friend? 

Colleague, he decides. That’s what they are. Anders Johnson has colleagues and associates and clients. He does not have friends. 

The office is oddly quiet without her. For as long as he can remember, Dawn has never missed a day of work, and he can’t remember the last time he was here, alone, during the day. Nights are a different story, but more often than not that’s god shit, and he won’t think of that right now. Not when there’s a problem with the venue of _this_ event, and the organizers of _that_ event are requesting an emergency meeting, and he has at least three reporters from various circulars trying to get in contact with him, not to mention the pile of press releases that need to be edited and sent out (and that _will_ have to wait for Dawn, because Anders’ spelling is atrocious) _and_ the paperwork that has to be signed and sent off to Wellington and and and…

He closes his eyes and rubs his aching temples, and is barely aware of the door opening. Well, whoever it is is going to have to wait until he refills his coffee cup, and what the fuck, wasn’t it full only a minute ago?

“Hard at work?”

Anders sighs. “What do you want, Mike? Because, yes, I am.”

“We need you.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, god shit. We need Bragi.”

That gets his attention. “For what?” he asks, sounding a little too eager despite himself, and the little flutter in his chest is warm.

Mike rolls his eyes. “It seems Kvasir is in a bit of trouble. He got himself picked up by police a few days ago, and he’s in jail. He can’t make bail, of course. But we need to talk to him, so we need _you_ to get us into the place.”

Easy enough. And the hope blooms inside him - this is what he needs.

“I want my powers back. If I help you with this.”

“That’s up to Axl.”

Fair enough. If it’s up to Axl, then he’ll show Axl that Bragi isn’t just a useless dick. 

“When?”

 He can feel Bragi inside him again, thrashing in his mind, and he thinks that if Mike told him to come right now, he would blow off everything he has to do today and come running. _Just like old times, eh._

“Tonight. Come to the bar around 5—“

“I _work_ until 5:30.”

“ _Fine._ ” And he can almost hear the sneer in Mike’s voice. “Come to the bar at 6, then, if that works for you.”

He ignores the sarcasm. “I’ll be there.”

“See that you are. And stay the _hell_ away from Gaia. Or whatever happens to you _will_ be your fault.” 

~~~

Dawn still isn’t home by the time Anders leaves the office, and he’s grateful at least for that. He hates lying to her about god shit, but the idea of bringing her into it makes him shudder. It never ends well for mortals.

Even the sight of the bar fills him with trepidation, but Bragi is strong inside him and forces him forward. He combs his fingers through his hair and cocks his chin, and clenches his fingers. He will _not_ show weakness.

The others are already gathered inside, save Gaia and Ty. Not that he wants to see Gaia, of course ( _but he does, oh fuck he does)_ but he wonders what she must think about being left behind. 

“Please, don’t get up,” he scoffs, joining the group gathered at the bar. Mike doesn’t offer him a beer, but he takes one anyway. Axl doesn’t look at him, but he can practically feel the tension radiating off his little brother. He stands on the other side of Michele, and does not say anything.

“We can’t all go,” Mike says, having placed himself in charge, as usual. “Anders, Olaf, and I will go.”

“I want —“ Axl begins, but Mike cuts him off.

“You’re too distinctive, Axl. If we are seen, anyone will be able to identify you.”

“And Olaf isn’t distinctive?” 

Anders has to admit Axl has a point there. All the same, he isn’t keen on riding in small space with him.

Mike blows out a breath between his teeth, evidently agreeing with Axl. “We sort of need Olaf.”

“I’m Odin! You need me!”

“Not for this we don’t. Stay here, Axl.”

The younger man looks put out, but relents and slumps down onto a bar stool, cracking open another beer.

Anders follows Mike and Olaf out to the truck. Bragi is warm and filling and ready to go, but there’s a knot of tension in his stomach. The task before them is easy enough, at least on his end. It’s no big deal to charm a few guards into letting them speak to Kvasir, but there are way too many variables to make it watertight. There’s way too many chances they could be seen by people they won’t be able to sweet-talk.

Suddenly, he’s really glad he decided to change before coming, into a nondescript Tshirt and sweatpants. It feels strange to be so underdressed in public, but anything else would be too distinctive. 

He swallows as they park, down the street rather than right in the parking lot. 

 _No doubts now, my boy_ , the seductive voice in his ear whispers. _We will be fine. You are mine._

“I’m yours,” he murmurs. Mike gives him an odd look, but he pretends not to see it. What does Mike know, anyway?

The entrance to the building is a huge, imposing walkway, at least 20 metres long, and to his dismay, surveillance cameras are mounted every few metres. He looks to Mike and quirks an eyebrow.

“Follow me,” Mike whispers. “Do not fall behind.” 

Running is an activity Anders tries to avoid even at the best of times. The asthma that had plagued him as a child had largely faded as he got older, but prolonged bouts of physical activity - such as pelting along behind Mike as they serpentined through the cameras’ blindspots — tended to bring it out, and he’s out of breath and wheezing by the time they reach the door. He takes a few deep, shaky breaths, and then nods.

There’s one bored-looking woman sitting at the reception desk, and Anders can’t see any more around but he’s sure there are. How can there not be? This is a jail, for fuck’s sake, it’s swarming with guards, someone is going to see them, someone is going to stop them…

“We’re here to see someone,” Mike begins.

The woman looks up. “Visiting hours are over. Come back tomorrow.”

He turns to Anders and nods, and then it’s Bragi coursing through him, telling him what to say. He’s barely even aware of what he’s saying - that happens sometimes, when Bragi is feeling strong, and right now he’s never felt stronger. Whatever it is, it works as it always does, and the woman stands up and lets them pass. 

 _It’s too easy_ , he thinks, _that was way too easy._ But no one stops them as they make their way down the halls to the visitor’s room. Kvasir is waiting for them, two bewildered looking guards standing behind him at the doors. Olaf sits down in front of Kvasir, Mike just behind them, and Anders knows that’s his cue again. He steps up to the guards, and lets it flow.

“This man is no one important,” he begins. “He’s a homeless drunk.” That part’s true, at least. “We were never here, and you’ve never seen us before in your life. When you leave this room, you will bring this man back to his cell, and then forget it ever happen. You will not tell anyone we were here. Can you do this for me?”

“S-sure. Of course.”

That’s all he needs to hear. Olaf stands up behind him, and the scraping of the chair breaks the spell. 

“Come on. Let’s go,” Olaf says, disgust evident in his tone. Anders can’t blame him; Kvasir might be relatively cleaned up and in clean clothes, but he’s still repulsive - especially the mocking sneer he wears. 

The way out is as uneventful as the way in, and at the reception desk Anders works his magic once again, ensuring that the guard at the desk will never remember them. Then it’s back in the truck and back to the bar and a good, stiff drink and by god Anders needs one, because he’s never attempted to break into a jail before. 

Axl is waiting for them as soon as they enter, like an overeager puppy, barely able to contain himself.

“There is a way,” Olaf confirms, and Anders isn’t quite prepared for how damn _relieved_ he feels. It’s going to be over soon. Things will be back to normal soon. 

“Well? How?” His face falls. “She doesn’t have to die, does she? Even for a little bit?”

Olaf looks guilty, which Anders takes a yes, she does. “Idunn’s spirit does have to leave her, Axl. But after that, if we recreate the ceremony, we should be able to entice Frigg to enter her. Since she was, in fact, supposed to be Frigg in the first place.” 

“But…doesn’t there have to be an Idunn in this world at all times?” Anders asks, even though he really, really doesn’t want to. He knows how it sounds. But it’s out of him before he can stop it.

Axl glares murderously at him, but Olaf is gracious enough to intervene. “Kvasir says that there is a girl turning 21 very soon - if we time it just right, Idunn will go to her.”

It’s so simple. Neat. Uncomplicated. Everything’s going to be all right. Gaia will be freed, and he will never have to think about Idunn again. There’s a sharp little tug in his chest at that thought, but it’s for the best. Things can go back to normal, or as normal as they can ever be. 

“Good! That’s settled then!” he says, forcing more cheer into his voice than he feels. “What about me?”

“What about you?”

“I helped you. I used my powers to help your quest, as it were.” He licks his lips, suddenly nervous. “Don’t I get my powers back for that?”

“No.”

“No!?”

Axl makes to step towards him and Anders instinctively takes a step back. He’s seen how fucking strong Axl is when he’s pissed. He’s had the bruises to prove it.

“You _slept_ with Gaia, you fucking prick! I can’t let that happen again! I should rip your cock off, but since I can’t do that, Bragi is fucking banished for good until Gaia is fixed.”

The words hit him like a blow to the stomach. “That’s not fair,” he says. “That’s not _fucking_ fair. You said that if I helped you —“

“I said if you helped us you’d get your powers back. But not when. Get the fuck out of here, Anders.”

Anders does, and to his credit, he doesn’t break down until he’s safely back in his own flat, well away from the prying eyes of the world. 

 _Stupid,_ he thinks. _Stupid, stupid, stupid to ever trust them._ Because that’s what hurts the most; even more than being separated from Bragi — being led on, being _used_ by his brothers. 

Being played for a fool. 

The door buzzes and he’s tempted to ignore it. He’s _really_ not in the mood for company tonight, and the panicky thought runs through his head - what if it’s Gaia? Does he have the strength to turn her away? Does he have the energy not to?

It buzzes again, sounding almost insistent. The fear is still bright in his mind, but Bragi is silent, so he risks it. If it’s Gaia, then maybe it’s just meant to be. Destiny, and all that shit. 

“I’m sorry,” Dawn says, as soon as he opens the door. “If I’m bothering you, if you’re busy, it’s just - can I come in?”

“O-of course,” he says, stepping back to let her in, trying to hide his relief and just how fucking glad he is to see her, and not only because she’s Not Gaia. Dawn is real and true and so far removed from god shit, and he needs that so badly right now he can barely think. 

She breezes past him into the living room and he catches the scent of her perfume - sweet, but not cloying - like honey - like her herself.

Dawn sighs, and drops onto the couch. Anders quietly pulls out a bottle of wine and pours her a generous glass, and then on second thought, one for himself.

“Ta,” she murmurs, accepting it. “And I’m sorry, if I’m interrupting you, I just…I don’t know.” She doesn’t meet his eyes.

“It’s fine,” he assures her. He’s glad of the interruption. “How was the funeral?” 

“It was…funereal. No, it was nice. I think. I knew she was sick, but it’s just like, I never really thought she would actually die, you know? You think your parents are invincible.”

“Hmm,” he says, even though he really doesn’t.

“Sorry,” she shakes her head. “Oh god, sorry. I forgot, your mum - that’s sort of why I’m here though —“

She takes a sip of her wine to steady herself. “I just need to…to get it out of my head for awhile. The whole way back it’s all I can think of and…I’m just _tired_ of thinking about it. No one else understands. Every single one of my friends, they’re all _happily married_ with _babies_ and their mums are _still alive_ , and then there’s me — and, well…I just wanted to talk to someone who understands.”

For once, Anders has no idea what to say, so he simply refills her glass. 

“I thought I would be sadder,” Dawn says, her voice small. “But I’m barely sad at all. Does that make me a bad person?”

“No. Not at all.” God, if there was ever anyone who could _never_ be called a bad person…

“Thanks,” she whispers, and moves in. Her kiss is soft and almost hesitant, then stronger and more insistent when he doesn’t push her away. 

“I thought you never kiss your boss,” he quips, somewhat breathlessly when they finally pull apart.

“You’re not my boss anymore, though, are you?” she smiles back cheekily, and he has to admit that she has a point. “I just…I need…” she trails off, kissing him again. “Someone. You.”

Guilt blooms in the back of his mind — she’s vulnerable, she’s just lost her mother, this is a _bad idea_ , and shamefully that ordinarily wouldn’t bother him but this is _Dawn_ , and he wouldn’t hurt her for the world, so when she goes to unbuckle his belt, he stops her.

“Don’t,” he says softly, reluctantly. “You’re drunk.”

“Off two glasses of wine? No, I’m not.”

“I’m taking advantage of you.”

“And I’m taking advantage of you.”

They look at each other, and that’s all it takes and then he’s carrying her into the bedroom shedding clothes along the way. For half a moment he’s reminded uncomfortably of Gaia, but then they come together and all thoughts slip from his mind because this is _nothing_ like fucking Gaia, or Helen or Idunn, this is real and pure and fucking isn’t the word for it, no, this is _making love_ and he doesn’t think he’s ever experienced it before.

“I understand now,” Dawn whispers as they’re coming down from the high. 

(Such a high…Anders thinks he could lay here forever without moving)

“What do you understand?” he asks, shifting over so she can rest her head on his shoulder. 

“Why there was practically a lineup to get into your pants.”

Anders snorts at this. “Thank you…I think.” 

“Thank you,” she says snuggling in and draping an arm across his chest. It’s cozy and warm and familiar, and not in the overbearing way that Helen was. “I suppose it is sort of rude to just barge in and demand sex—“

“Not that I’ve ever minded.”

“No. And it’s just been a shit few days.” She sighs. “Like I said…nobody understands. The funeral…fuck. It was…nice. It’s just…” She breaks off, and he puts his arm around her. It just feels right.

“I wasn’t very close to my mother,” Dawn whispers at last. “Growing up, I was her princess. We did everything together. But when I turned 21 suddenly everything changed. She could hardly stand to look at me, it seemed. So I left, and it seemed like…she came undone. It was like she just…went crazy.”

She looks away, unable to meet his eyes.

“She died in a mental institution. She started claiming she was a goddess, of all things. Her last words were ‘I am air’.”

“Eir,” Anders murmurs, his entire body going cold. “Eir. Norse goddess of healing.” 

“Well, she _was_ a doctor.”

“Of course she was.” He swallows thickly. No. This can’t be happening. _Goddammit_ this can not be happening. Not Dawn. Not her too. Why does everything in his life have to come back to this?

“Anders?” Dawn asks worriedly, pushing herself up on her elbow. “You okay?”

“Er, yeah, fine,” he lies smoothly.

“You don’t…think less of me, do you?” she asks, sounding almost shy. “Because my mother was mental?”

 _My mother was a tree, so no,_ he wants to say, but instead, “No. Of course not. You’re not your mother.” _Please, please, don’t be like your mother._

“Thanks,” she smiles. “Never actually told anyone this before.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks. Um…” she glances at his watch. “Oh. I didn’t realize it was that late. I guess I should be leaving…”

“You don’t have to,” he hears himself say. “Stay. I’m sure your boss won’t mind if you’re a little late tomorrow.” 

She laughs at that. “No, I suppose he won’t,” she says, and kisses him again. She lays down against his chest, and he puts his arms around her, and tonight, they are to each other what they both need. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, yeah. Sorry for the long delay in this chapter, it fought me tooth and nail the entire way. I'm still not happy with it at all, but it moves the plot along, I suppose.

“Auckland Open-Air Jazz Festival.”

Anders throws the papers down on his desk with a snort of disgust. “Great. Two things I hate: jazz, and being outside.”

Dawn raises her eyebrow.

“I’m allergic to everything, Dawn. _Everything._ ”

“Even the tens of thousands of dollars this contract is worth?”

“I believe I can make an exception for that.” He flips through the contract again. A major event, requiring weeks of planning and work. So many things to go wrong, but if pulled off well, a major triumph.

It’s exactly the sort of thing they need.

“I’ll call David and tell him the news. Was there any mail?”

Dawn doesn’t look him in the eye as she hands him the mail, and he’s careful to make sure their fingers don’t touch. _Awkward_ is too light a word for the feeling in the office this morning. He supposes this is the reason most people have a rule about sleeping with their co-workers. Dawn had been gone almost as soon as they’d woken up, offering a hasty excuse about wanting to go home and shower and change. Fair enough. But now this, this _silence_ and he realizes for once that he has no idea what to do. For the first time in his life, Anders has no fucking clue how to handle the morning after.

They’re going to have to talk. He doesn’t think she’s mad at him, but they can’t keep going on like this either. It’s unprofessional at the very least. Devastating at the worst, if they’re going to pull this contract off.

He looks at it again. Fuck, this would be difficult for a team of five. Two is going to be hellish. He can’t wait to begin. Already he’s formulating ideas, connecting dots, making lists and plans and strategies.

And the best part of it? Bragi won’t do one damned thing. He hasn’t even thought of his god in hours. The empty hole in his chest is no longer cold and painful, it’s a dull kind of ache now - a feeling of unease, of wrongness, but one that can be shoved to the back of his mind and forgotten about. And shit, does he need to forget about that right now.

Dawn still hasn’t spoken more than necessary to him by mid day, so Anders knows he has to man up and take the situation in hand. He’d been holding off on the off chance that she would break the silence first, but she’s still avoiding his gaze, and he knows he can’t let this go on too much longer. They need to talk, but they can’t do it here.

“Lunch?” he asks, sauntering up to her desk. 

She looks up, surprised. “Ah, sure. Okay.” 

He isn’t quite sure where to go, once they get on the road. It’s ironic, really, just how _bad_ he is at anything pertaining to any sort of relationship (is that what this is? Is that what this even is?). The last time Anders had been involved in anything that could even be considered a relationship was with Helen, and that didn’t exactly count. 

In the end, they decide on takeaway at Anders’ flat. Neither want to have a discussion like this in public, and nowhere else is private enough. It’s not exactly classy, but fuck, when has Anders ever been classy? 

(Except this is different, this is _Dawn_ , this is not some random lay he’ll never see again and never want to.)

He waits for her to make the first move. 

“So,” she says, when they’re done eating. “What happened last night…”

“Is in the past,” he says smoothly. “A fluke.”

Dawn frowns. “That’s not what I was going to say. I don’t regret last night. I enjoyed it, actually. It’s just…weird.” 

Anders gets up and pours them both a glass of wine. Alcohol is definitely needed for this kind of thing. 

Dawn toys with the rim of her glass, still frowning, as if she wants to say something, but doesn’t know if she should. 

“This is going to sound awful,” she says at last. She’s looking out the window, unable to meet his eyes. “I wasn’t lying, the other day, when I said I had a crush on you, when I first met you. You were a lot different then.”

“Was I?” He wets his lips nervously.

“Yeah. I can’t…I don’t know how to explain it, not exactly. But…kinder, maybe. More…normal. Like a real person. And I don’t know what changed, over the years, but I felt like I could see you slipping away, and like you were becoming this whole other person, one who was greedy and selfish and a complete _asshole_ , and yeah, I will admit, I found you pretty reprehensible, sometimes. Most times, actually.

“These past few days, it’s like it was in the beginning. You’re back to how you were, and I feel like shit for saying this, because I _know_ it’s because of Helen’s death —“

“It’s not,” he says softly. “Not — not exactly. Not completely.” 

“Well, whatever it is…I hope it sticks. I hope you stay this way. Because the way you are now — I could…I could see myself. With you.”

The full implications of what she’s saying hit him like a freight train, and for a minute, he’s unsure of how to respond. An actual relationship, one that isn’t based in destiny and supernatural shit, but actual feelings and love and respect. No gods, no outside forces. It’s new and intimidating and he’s not sure how exactly it works, but…

It’s perfect.

“Yeah,” he says, with a small smile that feels genuine, not like the smirk he’s become accustomed to. “I could see that too, I think.”

“Great!” she says with a grin. “I think we should set some ground rules. I _don’t_ do PDA. The office is work, and home is home, and they are separate. I know, in past experience, you might think differently…”

 _Helen,_ he thinks uncomfortably. “No, thats…that’s fine,” he says, and he means it. Helen’s brand of inter-office communication had been extreme, even for him, and he knows he never wants to repeat it.

Worse, he’s not sure he trusts himself not to.

 “And no work shit at home,” he adds. 

“Right. Of course. Well. That’s settled, then.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees pulling her onto his lap. _I could get used to this._

~~~

They’re very late getting back to the office, but true to their agreement, no one would be able to tell just what had conspired over their extended lunch break. Anders isn’t sure he himself knows.

In the space of only slightly more than a week, everything has changed. Helen, Gaia, Idunn, Frigg. Bragi, as well. Gone, gone gone. J:pr, almost gone, just barely holding on. 

And then Dawn. Dawn, who loves him anyway. Dawn, who is not a goddess.

He hopes. Oh god, does he hope. 

This would be a really good time to get in touch with Olaf. Although, it must be said, that even if Anders wasn’t banished, getting in touch with Olaf would be nigh-impossible. 

And then, as if it had heard his thoughts, his phone rings. The Caller ID informs him it’s from Mike’s bar.

“Olaf?” he greets eagerly.

“No,” says Mike, a touch of suspicion in his voice. “Were you expecting him?”

“Ah, no, not really,” Anders says. “But is he there?”

“No. But he will be. And so will you.”

Anders rolls his eyes. “No way. Whatever it is, I’m not doing it. I’m busy, Mike.”

“You’ll do it if —“

“Yeah, yeah, my powers.” He lowers his voice so Dawn won’t hear, and feels a small, inexplicable stab of guilt. “Only, Axl’s already said I’m not getting my powers back until Idunn’s in another vessel. Is that what this is about?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of’s not good enough, Mike. I have a million things to do and I can’t go running off to break into  a jail every time you call me.”

“Just come, Anders.”

“What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand? You’ve made it very clear. I’m not part of this family any more.”

“Then maybe, this is what you need to do to become part of this family again. Do something for someone else, rather than worrying about yourself all the time. Can you do that?”

“I —“ Anders is struck speechless.

“That’s what I thought. Come to the bar tomorrow night at 7. Is that late enough for you?”

“It’s fine,” he grits out. “This is stupid, Mike, this is —“

“I’ll see you then.”

Anders slams the phone down with a frustrated curse. Dawn looks back at him. 

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah, it’s just…don’t ever have a family, Dawn. It’s not worth it. It’s really not.”

~~~

 _This is getting all too familiar,_ Anders thinks grimly as he parks in front of the bar. He can only imagine what tonight’s project is going to be. Break into a museum? Rob a bank? Fucking kill someone?

( _No, that’s later,_ he reminds himself, and he swears he can feel Bragi shudder)

While he might not be happy to see his brothers, he _is_ happy to see Olaf. He tries to get closer to him, in the hopes that they could talk privately before the meeting begins, but it’s no use; Mike calls him over and begins. 

At first, Anders thinks he must be joking, the plan is so ludicrous. But Mike doesn’t joke, and especially not when it comes to god shit.

“A road trip,” Anders says, when he can formulate words. “You’re asking me to take a few _days_ out to drive out to who-knows-where to meet some girl who doesn’t know shit about shit, and somehow try to educate her about the weird shit that’s been happening to her?”

Mike only gazes at him expectantly.

“Mike, have you lost your fucking mind? I can’t just take off for a few days! I have things to do, Mike. I work —“

“Right, of course.”

“I _do,”_ he insists. “We’ve just landed the biggest contract I’ve ever had in my _entire_ career, and I can’t just leave in the middle of it!”

“Just get Dawn to do it. Isn’t she the one that did everything else?”

“You leave Dawn out of this,” Anders growls, a little too quickly, and he hopes the flash he sees in Mike’s eyes is just a reaction, and not understanding. Mike can’t know about him and Dawn. He can’t, he can’t, he’d tell Ty and then —

“Why me? Shouldn’t this be the territory of, uh, the _goddesses?_ As in, the ones to whom our prospective Idunn will belong? I mean, fuck, even Ingrid would be better than me. I don’t know half the shit I should when it comes to this stuff.”

“Because you have a way with words,” Mike says, quirking an eyebrow. “You can talk to her. Make her understand how important she is.”

“Besides, I’ll be coming too,” Olaf says. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Great. I feel so much better.” Anders rolls his eyes. “Mike, I can’t do this.”

“You have to. If you care even one whit about this family, you will. You will man up, you will fix your fucking mistakes. You have a lot to atone for, Anders. I suggest you start.”

 _Haven’t I paid?_ He thinks. _I’ve lost everything. What more can I possibly give?_ _How long will it take?_

“For Bragi,” he murmurs, feeling suddenly unutterably weary. Heavy. “When?”

“Soon as possible.”

“Can it wait till Saturday?”

“Saturday is fine.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up from here.” The last thing he wants is to have to explain to Dawn why there’s a stoned surfer on his couch, one who claims to be his cousin, but it doesn’t add up.

He still doesn’t know how he’s going to explain the road trip to her.

“The things I do,” he mutters, “for this family.”

And Bragi flares within him. 


	11. Chapter 11

Logically, Anders knows he’s going to have to tell Dawn about the weekend sooner rather than later.

He just doesn’t want to.

He’s in a foul mood when he comes in to work the next day, and it’s made worse by the pile of mail and other paperwork on his desk waiting for him, serving as a reminder of just how busy they are, and how he really can’t afford to take time off to go driving around the country. 

At least Dawn is understanding. She greets him with a smile (and a quick peck on the cheek, after self-consciously looking around, nevermind the fact that technically she’s breaking her own rule.)

“It’s going to be one of _those_ days,” she sighs. 

She’s not wrong. Already the Auckland Open-Air Jazz Festival is proving to be their most difficult client yet. It doesn’t help that the main contact person is completely disagreeable to any of J:pr’s plans.

They’re barely _into_ the planning stage. 

“This is karma, isn’t it?” Anders muses as the day finally draws to a close. His desk is covered in papers full of crossed out notes, and the blackboard is steadily filling with reminders of all the _other_ clients he needs to get back to. 

“For what?” Dawn asks, appearing around the corner to write yet _another_ note on the board. Anders groans.

“For all the times I didn’t do a single goddammed thing all day.”

“I prefer to think of it as redemption,” she says mildly.

“Maybe so,” he concedes. She has a point. “Coming over tonight?”

“Of course,” she smiles. “Looking forward to it.”

 _But maybe not so much when I tell you about the weekend,_ he thinks grimly on the drive home. _Damn you, Mike. And Olaf. And Axl. And Gaia…_

By the time he gets home, he’s in a very foul mood indeed, which he carefully wipes away before Dawn pulls up behind him, lest she catch on. 

“Hellish day,” Dawn sighs as the enter the apartment, but Anders quickly silences her by sealing his mouth over hers. This leads to hurried fumbling against the wall, and Anders can feel himself getting hard already. He almost, _almost_ has her shirt off when she steps out of his grasp.

“I believe I was promised dinner, first,” she says sweetly.

“Cruel,” Anders mutters with a smirk, but goes to the kitchen anyway. Something simple tonight.

Dawn comes up behind him as he’s setting water on to boil and wraps her arms around his waist.

“I would never have imagined,” she purrs, “how _domestic_ you can be.”

“Yeah, I’m full of surprises,” he says softly. Dawn just laughs and presses a kiss to his shoulder before going to set the table.

“You’re quiet,” she remarks when they’ve finally sat down to eat. “Something wrong?”

“No, nothing,” he lies smoothly, hating himself.

“Hm. If you say so.” She pauses, then, “we should do something this weekend. Something fun, and not related to jazz in any way.”

He laughs at that, but sobers quickly. “I can’t. I…I have to go out of town.”

“The whole weekend?”

He nods. “And…possibly into the week.”

“Into the — Anders, we have a _million things_ to do.”

“I know!” he says, holding his hands up, as though in a defensive position. “And I’m going to do my best to get back as soon as possible.”

“Where are you even going?”

“Hawke’s Bay. I…I have to take my cousin. To the doctor. He’s not well.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“Yeah, it’s…rough.”

“Must be. Well, do you want company, then? I could come, if you like.”

Oh, shit. “Olaf is…really…picky, about who drives him. He really only likes to drive with me or my brothers, when he goes to his appointments. You know how it is.”

“I guess. Why don’t your brothers take him?”

Anders tenses. Immediately, the impulse is to lie, to make up some story about Olaf will only ride with him, but he knows that’s ridiculous and he won’t lie to her

( _More than you already have?_ His conscious niggles at him, but he pushes it down)

“They…can’t,” he falters. “Mike and Ty, they work…”

“So do you!”

He sighs. “That’s what I told them.”

“Well, what about your other brother? Axl?”

“He’s a student. He shouldn’t miss class.”

“Isn’t he in Building Tech?” she scoffs. “I thought all you had to do to pass that was have a pulse.”

“His car smells _really_ bad.”

“Anders.” Her tone makes him stop and look up. “That’s ridiculous. Why are you letting them do this to you?”

“Do what?”

“ _Use_ you! Every time your brothers call, you come running. You always have.”

“You don’t understand, Dawn,” he says. 

“What don’t I understand? I have eyes, Anders. And I’ve been around you and your family for a long time.”

“I did something. Something really bad. And I will be atoning or it for the _rest of my life._ ”

“What did you do?”

“It doesn’t matter.” _Where do I even start?_  

“Yes, it does!”

“You don’t understand!”

“You’re right. I don’t.” Her voice is deadly cool, and Anders has a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach. “I don’t understand you at all. Why are you defending them, when they treat you like shit? I don’t care what you did, or what they think you did. But I will not be with you if you’re going to put your brothers before our business, and before me.” 

And before Anders can say anything, she stands up, grabs her purse, and leaves, barely able to restrain herself from slamming the door behind her. 

“Well, shit,” he says quietly, and pours himself a glass of vodka.

~~~

He’s halfway tempted to call in sick to work the next day, but realizes the cowardice of that move half a second after thinking it. Besides, there’s a million things to get done today in preparation for the weekend, especially if he’s going to be away on Monday. 

And this shit had better be over by Monday, or he’s coming home anyway, Idunn, Frigg, Olaf, or not.

Dawn won’t speak to him except for the very barest of messages, relating only to the day’s business, and he spends the day watching her out of the corner of his eye, trying to judge her mood. 

 _How ironic,_ he thinks, _I can bed a thousand women and can’t even keep a girlfriend for a week._

(He does _not_ think of Helen. He doesn’t.)

He’s almost expecting her to hand in a resignation letter when she leaves for the day. How can they go on like this? She won’t want to work for her ex, and he knows he can’t work with anyone else but her, but…oh, it’s all a mess.

Which is why he finds himself on her doorstep later that night, heart in his throat. 

“Sorry,” is all he says when she answers the door.

Dawn steps back to let him in. “No, I’m sorry,” she sighs. “I shouldn’t have said half of what I did last night.”

“You weren’t wrong.”

“No, but it isn’t your fault, either. It isn’t your fault your cousin is sick, and it’s nice of you to take him to the doctor. I just…I’m worried.”

“About what? I’m never going to put them first, before you.”

“No, that’s not it. I’m worried for you.”

“For me,” Anders scoffs. “No one worries about me, Dawn.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Because!” she explodes. “I care about you, and I hate to see your brothers treating you like that! Whatever you did, it can’t be that bad!”

“It is.”

“What did you do?”

He can’t look her in the eye. “I…slept with my little brother’s girlfriend. The night…the night I made the decision to shut down J:pr. She came over, and things just sort of happened…and to my credit, I did not know they were still together. And I feel really bad about it.” After a minute, he dares to look at her, totally prepared to be asked to leave.

Dawn shakes her head. “Well, that’s — sleazy. But if you really didn’t know they were still together, then it sounds more like a mistake than a deliberate betrayal.”

“I know. I know, I know.” He sighs and flops down onto the couch. She hasn’t kicked him out yet, which is a good sign. “I’m a dick, Dawn. You know that.”

“Yes, but I also know that people change. You changed. And I don’t know why your brothers can’t see that. You’re _brothers_. Family. There’s supposed to be _some_ level of, of love, and forgiveness!”

“Not for me,” Anders shakes his head. “I’ve always been the bad guy. Right from the day I left for school. I’m the only one of us that went to uni. Mike and Axl are builders, or going to be, and Ty’s a refrigerator repairman. And I am short, weak, and asthmatic, so any kind of manual labour job for me was out.”  

“The more you talk, the less and less I like your family.”

“Like I said, I’m a dick. Always have been, always will be.”

“I disagree.”

“That’s kind of you.” 

“It’s the truth. Six months ago, I would never, ever have said I could be in a relationship with you, but here we are.”

 _Six months ago, you were dating my little brother_ , he thinks. Out loud, he says, “And here we are.” 

“Our first fight,” she smiles. “Glad we got that out of the way early.”

“Hmm,” he smiles. “And speaking of early, I’m due to pick up Olaf around 6 tomorrow morning.”

“Then I suppose,” she purrs, “you should just stay here tonight.”

It’s past two in the morning when they finally fall asleep in each other’s arms, all hurts forgotten, the fight long since blown over.

There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind - he’s forgotten something - but he falls asleep in the middle of trying to figure it out, and does not remember it when he wakes.

~~~

Olaf is waiting for him outside the bar when Anders pulls up the next morning. He says nothing at Anders’ slightly dishevelled look, only arches an eyebrow and gets in the car.

For awhile they drive in silence. Anders is tired and grumpy and he has no interest in listening to Olaf’s drug-fuelled patter.

They’ve been driving for two hours when Olaf suddenly speaks up. “Ty has a girlfriend.”

Anders shifts uncomfortably. “Does he?” Olaf might be the most sympathetic member of his family, but Anders won’t give an inch.

“Yeah. Nice girl - a cousin of Jerome.”

“Who?”

“One of the Maori gods. Maui. He would have been Gaia’s husband, if, you know, it had gone badly.”

“It did go badly, grandpa.”

“Right. Well, worsely.”

“Is she a goddess?”

“No, surprisingly. Or not surprisingly. She’s a half-cousin or step-cousin or something. But she’s a mortal.” 

“Hm. How about that.”

Olaf pauses, and Anders can sense him looking at him out the corner of his eye. 

“I know why you did that,” he says at last.

“Did what? What did I do now?”

“You used Bragi on Ty. You told him to move on from Dawn.”

“Yes I did. And _no_ , unlike what Mike thinks, I didn’t do it so I could move in on her. That was entirely unexpected.”

Olaf blinks. “I…wasn’t going to say that. I think that was a kind thing you did for him. No, Mike and Axl don’t understand, but I do.”

“Then you’re the only one that does,” Anders says, and there isn’t a sudden lump in his throat. There _isn’t._   “It could never be the same between them, and it isn’t fair to either of them. And one day, he would slip, and say something that would give him away, and that would be that. I was never trying to get between them.”

“I know, Anders. And some day, Mike and Axl will know too.”

“Doubt it.”

“They don’t hate you.”

“Of course they don’t. I’m too valuable.” 

And he notices with a pang that Olaf doesn’t exactly deny it.

“Grandpa,” he says at last. “You got mortals pregnant, didn’t you.”

“I may have, a time or two…or five, or ten…”

“Those kids that resulted - were any of them gods?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Anders. Because their mothers were mortal.”

“So a god and a mortal can never result in the kid being a god. Or goddess.”

“Right.”

“Ever?”

“No. And why do you ask?”

“No…no reason.”

Olaf leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “What _can_ happen, if the parent’s god is strong enough, is that some of the characteristics of that god can imprint on the child.”

“Hm. Makes sense.” Of course it does - Dawn is the warmest, kindest, most compassionate person he’s ever known. 

They fall silent again as Anders turns it over in his head. He’d be lying if he didn’t say he felt relieved - Dawn isn’t a goddess. She’s safe from that, at least. This crazy, fucked up world and all the crazy, fucked-up people in it. And if all goes well, she will never, ever find out. She can keep thinking that he has to take his cousin to “doctor’s appointments,” and the reason he slept with his little brother’s girlfriend was because of a mistake, rather than some cosmic force slamming the two of them together.

He turns his thoughts away from Gaia. It still fills him with guilt, and now that Bragi is back, a fair amount of arousal. Instead, he tries to think forward, toward the girl who will be the new Idunn.

His new wife. The next girl he’ll desperately, uncontrollably want to fuck.

( _Bragi_ will, he corrects himself. _Bragi_ will want to fuck this girl). 

And then everything will be okay, Gaia will be Frigg, Axl can do his thing and then…

“Grandpa,” Anders says suddenly, startling Olaf from the light doze he’d fallen into. “What’s going to happen when we get our powers back?”

“Hard to say, really,” he frowns, scratching at the top of his head. 

“I mean, we’ll still be here, right? In - in Auckland. We’ll still be _us_ , just more powerful?”

“I don’t know, Anders. But…I wouldn’t count on it, somehow.”

Anders swallows. “So, we’ll just…what? Disappear into thin air?”

“We’ll go back to Asgard.”

“Leaving behind everyone.”

“All mortals, yes.” Olaf looks at him form the corner of his eye again. “I take it you’re no happy about this.”

“No, I am. Of course I am. It’s all I wanted since I became a god. To get my powers back in full.”

“That’s what Bragi wants.” 

Anders has no answer for that, even though he knows Olaf is right, and has been right for some time. No matter what anyone might think (even he himself at times), Bragi is not Anders, and Anders is not Bragi, and while their existence might be intertwined, it’s clear now, more than ever, that their destinies may not be.

(He shifts uncomfortably at the sudden, burning pain in his chest and resolves to never eat fast food for breakfast again, no matter how much Olaf whines on the way back.)

He barely remembers the meeting with the girl - Sara Freeberg, a thin, plain-faced girl turning 21 in a few week’s time - and the drive back on Sunday is quiet as Olaf sleeps off his hangover, and Anders thinks, turning the situation over and over in his head, being honest with himself in a way he never has been before. Bragi quietly fades away again as they get closer to Auckland, and by the time Anders shows up on Dawn’s doorstep, Bragi is gone completely.

And lying there in the dark, watching her sleep, Anders realizes that he doesn’t miss Bragi at all. 


	12. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like the title says - a fluffy h/c interlude before the second act begins. Not strictly necessary to read, but interesting (I hope!) nonetheless.
> 
> (If vomit squicks you out though, you might want to read at your own risk)

Anders wakes with a pounding headache and the feeling that the temperature in his flat has suddenly dropped several degrees.

“Ty,” he slurs, but no, that’s not right, Hodr returned to the universe, and no longer inhabits Ty. He frowns and tries to contemplate that, but drifts off again before he can figure it out.

Hours, or maybe only minutes later, he wakes, and the flat is on fire. Or maybe the blankets are on fire. Or maybe he himself is on fire. He kicks off the duvet and sighs with relief before a powerful wave of nausea breaks over him.

Instantly his entire body tenses up. No. No. No, nononononono…. He swallows convulsively and grips the blanket, and tries desperately to fall back to sleep. 

To no avail, and the room is freezing again. He pulls the blanket back over himself, and Dawn makes a soft, sleepy noise. 

Shit. The last thing Anders wants to do is wake her. She can’t know. She can’t see him like this. Another wave rolls over him and he breathes out slowly until it recedes. He’s shaking all over, but whether that’s from cold or fear or something else, he can’t say.

“Anders?”

Shit. No. No. 

“You okay?”

Fuck. “Yeah,” he grits out. “Fine.” 

“You sure?” She moves to turn on the beside light, and he can’t help a little whine escaping as the bed moves, which does not help the nausea at all, and in fact, makes it worse. 

Much worse.

“You look like shit,” she says. 

“I’m fine.”

Her hand reaches over and brushes over his face. “You’re really warm.”

“No I’m not.” He fights to keep his breathing even as a cold sweat breaks out all over him.

“Yes, you are.” She presses her hand to his forehead and he moans a little. _Please,_ he thinks, _please let Eir’s powers have imprinted just a little more…_ _“_ Can I get you anything? A glass of water?”

“That…would not be wise.” He swallows again.

“Are you going to be sick?”

“No!” he says it a little more forcefully than he intends, and grips the blanket so hard his knuckles turn white. “Nope, no way. I feel fine.”

Dawn’s looking at him skeptically, one eyebrow raised. “You know you’ll feel a lot better if you just -“

“I said I’m fine!” 

“Okay, all right…” she backs off. The look in his eyes isn’t just pain, she realizes with a tug. It’s pure, abject terror.

Anders lies in bed for a few more minutes, fighting against his rebelling body, but it’s a losing battle. With a muffled curse he gets up and staggers towards the bathroom and lets nature take its course. Dawn aches to go to him, but something tells her to stay put. 

Long minutes later, he stumbles back to bed and collapses, face down on the mattress.

“Twenty-eight years,” he groans. “I haven’t hurled in twenty-eight years.” 

“How is that possible?”

“Willpower.”

“But you go out drinking all the time.”

“And I have been hungover many, many times. But I’ve never been sick. Until now, and I’m not even hungover.”

“I’m sorry.”

“S’not your fault. Let’s just — let’s just go back to sleep.” His voice is shaky and he won’t look at her. 

“Anders —“

“I’m fine!” He pulls the blanket over his head and turns away. 

“Okay,” she sighs, and turns off the light.

By the time it’s actually time to get up for work, Anders has thrown up three more times, and is only slightly less pale than the white wall.

“You’re not going in,” Dawn says flatly as he tries to get up.

“What? Of course I am. We have a lot to get done today.”

“All of which I can do myself, or can wait till tomorrow. You look terrible and you’re sick. You’re staying home.”

“I’m not sick.”

“Yes, you are!” She throws her hands up. “You’ve always been like this! Why is it any other day you’d be happy to take the day off, but as soon as you actually have a valid excuse you insist on coming in and spreading it around?! Our clients are not going to be impressed if you spew on them.”

He cringes. “I…I wouldn’t…Dawn, I would _never_ —” 

“Okay, okay,” she soothes, realizing quickly that he’d taken her words a lot more seriously than she’d intended. “I was just kidding. But seriously — you’re staying home.” Her voice is firm, and Anders doesn’t have the energy to argue any longer, so he just nods in defeat and disappears back under the blankets. 

~~~

The morning passes slowly. Dawn deals with clients and the organizers of the Jazz Festival, and tries calling Anders a few times, but he doesn’t answer. She tells herself not to worry, since he’s obviously just sleeping, and is perfectly fine because he’s a grown man and he can take care of himself, especially from a little flu. He’s fine.

Right. Of course. 

Still, lunchtime can’t come fast enough, and she closes down the office as soon as she’s done with the last client, and makes her way home.

The flat is quiet when she enters, which is to be expected. The main room is empty, so she quietly shuts the door and tiptoes into the bedroom. Anders is in bed, sound asleep. Of course he is. 

Dawn retreats to the kitchen and fills a glass with water, intending to leave it on the night table for him when he wakes.

When she enters the room again, Anders is speaking.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Feeling any better?”

Anders makes no indication that he’s even heard her, and keeps murmuring under his breath. Dawn leans in to hear him, and a chill goes down her spine despite the heat of the room.

(And he is _blazing hot_ , she can feel it without even touching him, like nothing she’s ever felt before)

The words aren’t English. She’s not even sure they’re _human_. It sounds Scandinavian, but there’s a _power_ , a _presence_ behind them that stops her cold.

Anders’ eyes open, wild and dark. He grabs her arm, hard enough to leave bruises.

“ _Bitch,”_ he hisses, nothing like his real voice. “ _He’s mine!”_

Dawn rips her arm from his grasp and bolts for the door, slamming it behind her. For a long time she stands in the kitchen, calming her racing heart and fighting the urge to just run out of the apartment and never come back.

A dream, she tells herself. Anders was having some kind of fever dream, and she’d startled him out of it. That’s all, nothing more. Unfortunate, and startling, but nothing to be afraid of. 

( _No, it wasn’t,_ her subconscious tries to tell her, but she squashes that flat, and doesn’t think on it again.)

Nearly ten minutes pass. Dawn begins to feel silly, and somewhat guilty. Anders is obviously _really_ sick, and she’d abandoned him. She waits another five minutes, steeling her nerves, then gently opens the bedroom door.

Anders is silent, save for light, even breathing. Taking that as a good sign, she creeps closer. When he doesn’t move, she reaches out and touches his face.

Cool. No fever at all. 

Anders sighs at her touch and opens his eyes. She tenses, but all he does is smile sleepily. 

“What are you doing home?” he asks.

“It’s uh…it’s lunchtime. I came home to see how you were.”

He sits up. “Haven’t chucked in over an hour. I think I’m recovered. I’m gonna come in to the office.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He looks around uneasily. “I think…I just need…to get out.”

“All right,” she concedes, “but come eat something first.”

He follows her out to the living room and settles into the couch.

“You’re being really nice to me,” he muses at last.

Dawn looks at him in disbelief. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He frowns, contemplating his toast. “Right. Yeah. I suppose. I don’t know. Mum wasn’t exactly the nurturing type.”

“Oh…” her heart sinks. “And you haven’t been sick in twenty-eight years…”

“Because I spewed on Mum’s favourite rug when I was 5, and let’s say…she wasn’t exactly pleased.”

Dawn swallows, feeling her fists tighten involuntarily. “I really hate your family.” 

~~~

As much as Anders insists that he’s feeling much better, by 1:30 he’s dragging, and by 2:00 is lying on the sofa, sound asleep. Dawn takes over what he’d been working on, and keeps watch out of the corner of her eye.

She looks up from her computer as a tall brunette woman in grey scrubs walks in. She looks vaguely familiar, but Dawn can’t quite place her. Her features are beautiful but sharp, and she puts Dawn immediately on edge. 

“Can I help you?” she asks, perhaps a little more forcefully than she intended.

“I need to see Anders.”

“He’s…busy.” But the woman just rolls her eyes and brushes past Dawn into the main office.

“Really busy,” she says sarcastically. 

Anders opens his eyes and blinks blearily. “Fuck off, Michele. Or I’ll hurl all over your shoes.”

“I’m a doctor, Anders. It’s happened before.”

“You hate the sick. Which I am. So go away.”

“We’re meeting tomorrow night, at Mike’s bar.”

“So?” 

“You’ll be there.”

“No, I won’t.” He closes his eyes again.

“Yeah, you will.”

“No, I won’t! I’m done with this, Michele. I’m done with being used for my powers. I don’t want anything more to do with god shit, so you can take that back to Mikkel and shove it up his ass. Why are you being his messenger goddess anyway?”

“At least I still am a goddess, and I don’t have to wait for my little brother to ever so kindly grant me permission to use my powers!”

Anders sighs. That stings. “Michele, I’m sick. Either give me something to make me less sick, or go away.”

Michele rolls her eyes. “Oh, harden up,” she sneers as she walks away. “And you _will_ be there.”

The door slams behind her. Anders lays still for about three seconds, the gasps out “Oh, _fuck_ ,” and bolts for the bathroom. 

Dawn gives him a sympathetic look when he drags himself back to the couch and he shrugs sheepishly before closing his eyes and falling back into a dead sleep, where he remains until it’s time to lock up and go home. Though he manages to stay conscious on the car ride home, he crashes in bed as soon as they arrive back at the flat, and Dawn is content to leave him in peace until she too decides to go to bed. 

She hesitates a little before opening the door, but the room is quiet. She slides into bed beside Anders, and tries not to gasp when he opens his eyes.

( _Bitch! He’s mine!)_

“Thanks,” he murmurs sleepily. “For today. And sorry.”

“Oh, stop it. Not your fault. Hope I don’t catch it, though.”

“Then I’d just have to take care of you.”

She smiles at his words, reflecting on just how _different_ he’s become. The Anders she’d known even a year ago would not be so sweet. 

“Who was that woman today?” she asks.

Anders rolls his eyes. “No one. Mike’s girlfriend. Trying to summon me to another family meeting. I told her to fuck off.”

“No way.”

“Yeah, I did. I’m not going.”

“I’m proud of you. I really am.”

Anders laughs softly, then yawns. “It’s not over yet.”

Dawn lays awake long after Anders has fallen back to sleep, just watching him. Not over yet, he’d said. But maybe this is a step in the right direction.

( _Bitch! He’s mine!)_

“No,” she whispers, twining her hand with his. “He’s mine.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another one of those chapters that fought me the whole way...sorry...

Anders barges into Ty’s apartment without so much as a by-your-leave. Some things never change. 

Ty looks up with a raised eyebrow, wordlessly asking him what he wants. Anders ignores him and keeps wandering around the little workshop.

“What’s this?” 

“A refrigerator. The compressor’s blown on it.”

“Hmm.” He wanders a little further, ignoring his brother’s glare. “What’s this?”

“An ice chest from the dairy on the corner - and don’t touch it! There’s enough electricity stored in the transformer it’d go across your heart and kill you before you could even let go.”

Anders yanks his hand back like he’s been burned and shoves it into his pocket. 

“Why are you here, Anders?” Ty asks at last. 

“What do you mean, why am I here?” he asks. “Maybe I need my refrigerator fixed.”

“You just replaced your fridge two years ago, and it’s a top-of-the-line model. No way it’s broken down that fast.” 

“Hmm.” He wets his lips nervously, and that’s frightening because Ty can’t even think of the last time he’s seen Anders _nervous._ “I wanted…to ask you something. A question.”

“About fridges.”

“No.” 

“Then…what?”

Anders swallows, then nods to himself. “I want to know how, exactly, you became mortal.”

Ty drops his screwdriver. Whatever he’d been expecting, it was definitely not that. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. I want to become mortal.”

“But…but…”

“How, Ty?”

Ty sighs, seeing that his older brother won’t be dissuaded. He puts his tools down and stands up. “It’s not a simple solution.”

“I know that.”

“I had to die, Anders.”

Anders nods again. “But you got better.”

“Michele brought me back with the Yggdrasil.”

“Ah.”

“But it’s not just that! I came back, yeah, but to what? No one remembers me, Anders. I had to build my business from the ground up - _again._ Do you know what it’s like to be thirty years old and have no one? No school friends, no references, nothing. Can you live with that?”

“I have to,” he says, even though the prospect is daunting. No, terrifying. His chest tightens up and he feels like he can’t breathe for a moment, but he grips the edge of the freezer hard and recomposes himself. There will be time for that later.

“This is about Dawn, isn’t it,” Ty says softly.

Anders looks up sharply, ready duck out of the way if things went bad. “Why do you ask?”

“Mike told me.” Ty sighs and leans agains the side of the fridge. “He told me everything. He told me that you Bragi’d me into forgetting about her that night, when all that shit went down. I’m not gonna lie - I was pissed. I wanted to kill you. But…I started to think it over. And then I met Julie, and…I’m okay with it now.”

“With me and Dawn.”

“Yeah. I mean, you’re happy, she’s happy, I’m guessing…”

“I haven’t heard any different. She was plenty happy last night.”

“Ew. But…It’s getting pretty serious between you two, then.”

“You could say that.”

“Do you love her?”

“I’m willing to give up my god powers, my entire life for her, Ty! What the fuck do you think? Of course I love her!”

“I bet you’ve never told her.” 

Ty’s quiet, direct statement brings him up short and he looks away. 

“Are you going to marry her?”

Anders gapes. “Are you out of your fucking mind? I don’t know!”

“Because,” Ty continues on, “you will lose her if you don’t. Dawn isn’t one of your nameless girls who you can keep around indefinitely by fucking them and buying them nice things. She’s a real, normal woman, who needs a real, normal life.”

“Nothing about me could ever be described as normal,” Anders says with a wry smile. “But maybe that’s why I need to become mortal.”

“She won’t remember you.”

Anders closes his eyes and breathes out through his nose. Fuck. He hadn’t considered that. _Fuck._ “There has to be a way,” he says. “I’ll find Kvasir. There _has_ to be a way.”

“Oh, and how are you going to do that?” Ty scoffs. “Only Mike can find him, and I don’t think he’s too keen on helping you.”

“I bet he would, if it meant getting rid of me,” Anders muses darkly. 

“They need your power.”

“And I am _fucking sick_ of being used for it! I’m not Bragi, Ty, not anymore.”

“I know,” Ty says softly. “You’ve changed. I barely even recognize you anymore. And usually, that’s a bad thing. But in this case…it isn’t.”

“Uh…thanks. I think.” Anders isn’t sure what to say to that. He’s suspected it, known it, for a long time, but apart from Dawn, Ty is the only one who seems to have noticed. 

“Come over for dinner on Saturday,” Ty says, changing the subject before it can get any more awkward. “You and Dawn. You can meet Julie. It’ll be fun. Normal.”

“Normal,” Anders repeats. “Yeah. We’ll be there.” 

~~~

_Are you going to marry her?_

The question reverberates in his head during the drive back to his apartment, until he just wants to bang his forehead on the steering wheel and shout, “ _I DON’T KNOW!”_

Marriage is a terrifying concept, and one Anders knows sweet fuck-all about. He barely remembers his parents’ marriage, other than it was loud and violent and deeply unhappy. The same for Ty’s short-lived marriage to Eva. Mike and Val, well…he knows the answer to that one. It was misguided and a mistake. Zero for three. Not a good record.

And then Helen…so they hadn’t been married, exactly, but fuck if it wasn’t close enough. He hadn’t been lying to Ty when he’d said the thought of being with the same woman, day after day, having her plan their activities for him, made him deeply disturbed.

And yet, when he thinks about it, about being with Dawn every day, for the rest of his life, he doesn’t feel that rush of bile and panic. Dawn isn’t Helen, and she isn’t Elizabet, or Val, or (god forbid) Eva. She’s a mortal. She’s normal. And being with her…it would be normal too.

Then again, there’s the other side of this whole situation: does Dawn want to marry him? He can’t help but feel it’s the one thing he’s overlooking, which is ridiculous, because it’s the linchpin of his entire plan. 

(Of course she doesn’t, the nasty little voice in the back of his mind whispers. He’s selfish and self-centred and egotistical and rude and blunt and there’s no way that anyone, ever, should want to be in any sort of relationship at all, because no matter what people say, he hasn’t changed that much, not enough, he’s still an asshole and a dick and it’s too late, it’s far too late to try to fix things…)

And he can’t, he just _can’t_ think about that, because he can’t bear to lose her. 

He’s lying on his bed, turning things over (and over, and over, with no success) when the door opens. Light footsteps - Dawn. Belatedly he recalls that she’d gone out with friends. Odd, that she’d come back to his flat and not her own.

“Anders?” she calls tentatively.

“In the bedroom,” he calls back. Moments later she appears in the doorway.

“What are you doing in here?” she asks.

“Wallowing in self-loathing?”

“Oh. Okay. Mind if I join you?” 

He indicates the spot next to him. “To enjoy my pain or to wallow with me?”

“Bit of both.”

“Oh?” He sits up on one elbow to look at her. “Did your lunch not go well?”

“Something like that. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay…”

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, side-by-side, lost in their own thoughts. It’s comfortable and companionable, and this, _this_ is the kind of life he could get used to. Just…being with someone. With Dawn.

“I didn’t go to lunch today,” she says suddenly. 

“Oh no?” _No, this is it, she’s got someone else on the side_ his mind puts in frantically before he shuts it down with a surge of guilt that he could ever think that about her.

“You know that I caught your flu from a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“And I got it bad - worse than you did. And it didn’t go away.”

“Right…”

“So I thought I should see about it. I went to the doctor. Not lunch.”

“And you’re sick,” he says, even as he feels his breath catch. “What is it? Cancer? It’s cancer, isn’t it. Well, we can fight this, there’s loads of medicines out there, we can —“

“Anders,” she says, putting a hand on his arm. “I don’t have cancer. I’m not sick.” She takes a deep, fortifying breath. “I’m pregnant.” 

For a minute, he doesn’t know what to say. Then, “Pregnant…how is that possible?”

She glares at him. “It _is_ yours.”

“I know! But we’ve always been careful…oh.”

“What?”

“A few weeks ago, the night before I left for Hawke’s Bay. We fucked and we forgot to sheathe it. I remember that I knew that I forgot something that night, but… _Dammit,_ I never forget that. I mean, you’re sure, right? That you actually are pregnant?”

“Yes! I’d actually…I’d actually suspected. For awhile. I just didn’t want to say anything, because…because.” She can’t look him in the eye. 

“Because you thought I’d do a runner,” Anders says softly, and Dawn nods. “Never,” he says resolutely. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” All the while, he can’t deny that there is something inside him urging him to go, leave, and never look back. He tamps it down ruthlessly.

“What are we going to do?” she asks. “I don’t think I could…get rid of it. Do you know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean, and I’m not asking you to do that. I wouldn’t ask you to do that. We’ll…we’ll work it out, okay? Together. Because I love you, and we’ll figure out a way to make this work.”

“You do?”

“What?”

“Love me.”

“Yeah.” He tilts his chin up a little, defiantly, _daring_ her to question him. “And I don’t say that to just anyone. In fact…in fact I’ve never said it to anyone before now.” 

“And no one’s ever said it to you, have they.” Coming from anyone else, it would be an insult, but from Dawn it’s a simple statement of fact, and he doesn’t have to answer for her to know that she’s right. “I thought so.” She shakes her head and looks infinitely sad, as though she can’t possibly imagine anyone going their entire life without being told they’re loved.

(Of course she can’t, she’s _Dawn,_ she’s loved by everyone who comes across her. She doesn’t know what it’s like any other way.)

“Then I’ll be the first,” she says. “I love you.” And she’s _claiming_ him with those words, because he knows now he’ll never be with anyone else ever again. 

Tentatively, as though asking for permission, he lays his hand over her abdomen, and imagines he can feel the life inside, even though his rational mind tells him the thing can’t be any bigger than a walnut, and doesn’t even have a brain, for fuckssake. 

(It’s not even alive, he reasons. It’s a ball of fucking cells, there’s no way he should feel anything, no reason to feel anything at all, so where is this sudden rush of fierce protectiveness coming from?)

It’s stupid and it doesn’t make any sense and it’s not the best timing and Anders is the _last_ person who should ever be a father, but maybe…

“We’ll work it out,” he murmurs again, but he knows he’s already made his decision.

~~~

Although Dawn is a little uncertain at first, dinner with Ty and Julie is significantly less awkward than she’d anticipated, and by the end of the night they are genuinely having a good time, with all previous transgressions forgotten. Julie is funny and charming and lovely, and Anders is truly happy for Ty, and feels some of the guilt lifting. Ty, for his part, barely even seems to remember that Dawn is his ex. Which is why Anders doesn’t wait to corner him in the bedroom after the dessert is served. 

“I need to become mortal.”

“So you’ve said.”

“No, I need to become mortal, like now. Right this very minute.”

“I can’t help you with that. You’d have to talk to Michele.”

“Michele hates me. Can’t you talk to her? I don’t trust her to bring me back.”

“I thought you were going to find Kvasir and get some answers from him, first.”

“Plans have changed. I don’t have as much time as I thought.”

“What?” Now Ty looks genuinely worried. “Why the hell not?” 

Anders peeks out the door to where the two women are conversing on the couch, barely even aware that their partners have disappeared into the bedroom.

“Not a word of this to the others. Not one fucking word,” Anders says. “Promise me.”

“Anders, what —“

“ _Promise me._ ”

“I promise.”

He takes a breath. “Dawn is pregnant.”

The look on Ty’s face would be comical if it weren’t so serious. He gropes for words for a minute before, “you’re fucking kidding me.”

“Nope. 8 weeks.”

“How?”

“How do you think?” Anders can’t resist, even as Ty glares at him. 

“I mean…don’t you always… _you_ of all people…”

“Use protection? Yes, but mistakes do happen. Fuck, it wouldn’t even surprise me if there were a few other sprogs of mine running around Auckland, just by the odds alone. Anyway. Dawn is pregnant, and I need to become mortal so that in a few weeks when Odin and Frigg are reunited, I don’t get sucked up into Asgard. Or if the dumb oaf manages to get himself killed within the next few weeks, I won’t go with him.”

Ty breathes. “You’re going to keep it.”

“Yes.”

“You hate children.”

“No, I hate other people’s children. I’m rather fond of my own.”

“It’s not even born yet!”

“That could be why I like it so much.”

“Are you going to marry her?”

Anders rolls his eyes. “It always comes back to that with you! As a matter of fact, yes, I am. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Really.”

“Yes. If you really must know, I'm going to wait till the Jazz Festival is over and done with and we're not working ten hour days.”

Ty shakes his head. “You really have changed.”

“So people keep telling me. So I am asking you again: will you help me become mortal?”

Ty nods. “Yeah. I’ll help you. I don’t know what you think I can do, but if I can do it, I will.”

“Thank you,” Anders says sincerely. “The sooner I can do this, the better.”

“I know. And…for what it’s worth…I’m glad. That you’re happy. And she’s happy. I never would have believed it, and I can’t believe I’m saying it, but it seems like you two belong together.” He shakes his head. “She’s something special.”

Anders nods. “The only woman in history for whom two gods gave up their godhood, and she doesn’t even know. And she never will.” 


	14. Chapter 14

“What do you think about Autumn?” Dawn asks from her desk.

“What about it?” 

“For a name. Autumn.”

“Autumn Johnson. Sounds like a jazz singer.”

“All right then, do you have any suggestions?”

“No! Unlike you, I haven’t been planning out baby names since childhood.”

She laughs softly. “I’d be worried about you if you had. Have you called Richard back or shall I?”

“You do it. He likes you.”

Dawn rolls her eyes. “He likes anyone with a pair of breasts and a female voice.”

“Well you are far more qualified than I am in that department, so have at.”

She laughs again. “I should hope so.”

He watches her as she picks up the phone and places the call. Rationally, he knows she doesn’t really look any different — she’s not nearly far enough along to start showing, but there is something _different_ now, in a way that he can’t quite articulate. The idea — the _reality_ — of her condition is still sinking in somewhat, even though it’s been almost a week, and Anders would be lying if he said that, every so often, he got the urge to run away and never come back. After all, what does he know about kids? 

Then again, the other side of his mind reminds him — he looked after Ty and Axl when their parents left and Mike was gone off on his own yet again. And look how they turned out.

( _Not very well_ , a nasty voice whispers to him, but he squashes that down because it’s unfair and untrue, and even if it wasn’t, it’s not like Anders is exactly to blame.) 

No. Whatever is going to happen with this kid — with his kid — it’s going to turn out fine. After all, it has Dawn for a mother, and Dawn will be great at it. She’s good at everything she does.

 _Do you have any suggestions_? The enormity is staggering. Of course he doesn’t — naming a kid, a whole new human being — is not something you take lightly, and it occurs to him that he can’t even imagine where to start. No, he’ll leave that to Dawn. She’s less likely to screw it up.

“Hello,” he hears Dawn say. “Can I help you with something?”

“I’m looking for Anders,” the person replies, and a jolt like an electric shock races through him, and suddenly Bragi is shouting inside his head, wordless but frantic and urgent and _go go go to her_

“Are you from the Jazz Festival?” there’s an undercurrent of irritation in Dawn’s tone. He wonders if she can sense the sudden, supernatural attraction. How could she not, he decides. It’s the only thing he can think of.

“No,” Gaia replies. “I’m a…a friend. Sort of.”

 _Oh, fuck you_ , he thinks, because  the flash of hurt on Dawn’s face is unmistakeable, and his heart hurts because he knows this is his fault.

“Outside,” he orders, striding around his desk. “Now.” He looks at Dawn. “I’ll be right back. This won’t take long.”

He resists the urge to slam the door. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he hisses, resolutely ignoring the scent of her perfume, light and sweet like apples, that seems to be filling his senses. 

“I’m going to be Frigg soon,” she shrugs, as though its the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m happy about it, but I thought I’d give Idunn and Bragi one last chance. It was fun enough, last time.”

“How very altruistic of you,” Anders sneers, but to his horror his cock is getting hard. 

She shrugs. “Maybe I just want to fuck.”

“Idunn wants to fuck Bragi.”

“And Bragi wants to fuck Idunn, and seeing as how we are the vessels…”

“Go home, Gaia,” he says wearily. “Go back to Axl.”

“Axl and I…aren’t really doing too well these days.”

“I am genuinely sorry to hear that. I, on the other hand, have a girlfriend and I am not about to fuck that up. So go on home, and don’t come back here.”

She scoffs. “You have a girlfriend.” 

“Yes.” He tries not to show it, but she doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick back to the office door.

“What, her?”

“Maybe.” 

“The secretary. Of course.”

“Don’t call her that, and don’t come back. She’s…delicate, right now. I don’t want her getting upset.”

“Delicate? What, is she pregnant?” When he doesn’t answer, her eyes go wide in surprise. “Oh my god, she is.” 

“Not a word of this to the others. Not one fucking word. Promise me, Gaia.” 

“They’re going to find out.”

“Yes, and when they do it will be from me, at a time of my choosing. Is this clear?”

“You—“

“ _Is this clear?_ ”

“Yes!” Gaia backs away, shaking her head. “That poor kid.”

“Oh, just get out of here.”

“Gladly.” 

He watches her go. Bragi has quieted down again, back to wherever he’s banished to. He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself, then goes back in.

“Who was that?” Dawn asks. He tries to judge her mood. Her tone is casual, but there’s an undercurrent to it, and he knows he has to tread carefully.

“No one,” he shrugs. “My little brother’s girlfriend.”

“The one you slept with?”

Anders cringes. “Ah…yeah.”

“What did she want?”

 _Fuck._ “She wanted to tell me that…she and Axl are getting married.” Okay, so it’s only sort of a lie.

“Oh.” Dawn brightens up considerably. “I guess they got back together, then.” Then her eyes narrow. “Why wouldn’t your brother tell you?”

“Axl and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms. I wouldn’t expect an invitation to the wedding.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Yeah, well…you know me. I try to avoid weddings when I can.”

She hums in agreement and goes back to looking at her computer, but the disappointment is rolling off her in waves he can almost feel. He almost wants to say something, but nothing comes to mind, and his cellphone conveniently chooses this time to ring.

It’s Mike. Of course it is.

“What?” he snaps. 

“Come to the bar tonight.”

Oh for fuck’s sake…”No! I can’t come to the bar tonight. We’re about a week away from the biggest event we’ve ever done, and I’ve got a million things to do. I can’t just drop everything and come running. No.” 

Dawn catches his eye and smiles. He smiles back, feeling his resolve strengthen.

“It’s important.”

“I’ll bet it is, but not to me.”

“Yeah, it is. And you’ll be there.”

“Or what?” Anders drops his voice and moves behind the wall to sit on the couch. “I won’t get my powers back?”

“You’re running that risk.”

“Strangely, I don’t really care anymore.”

“ _Anders.”_

This is it, this is the opening he needs. “Things are changing, Mike.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ll explain tonight, at the bar.”

“So you are coming.”

“Yeah. Briefly.” And he hangs up before Mike can utter another word. 

“Everything okay?” Dawn asks innocently.

“Uh, yeah,” Anders sighs. “It will be.”

“You did good, standing up to your brother. He has to learn you won’t come running every time he calls.”

Anders blinks, and realizes that she’d only heard part of the conversation. “Right.”

“Great. Well, I called Richard back, and…”

Anders tunes out, too distracted by the guilt roaring through him.

~~~

Dawn comes over after work, as she usually does.

“So your brother’s getting married,” she says. “Isn’t he young?”

Anders shrugs. “He’s…Axl. He doesn’t always think things through.”

“You don’t have good views on marriage, then?”

“I didn’t say that.” He knows what she’s trying to do, and he won’t give in. He won’t spoil the surprise. “I don’t have good views on Axl getting married.”

“I suppose it is kind of weird, that your youngest brother gets married before you.”

“It’s not the first time,” he says without thinking. 

“Oh?”

“Ty was married once,” he says carefully. “It was short, violent, and abusive. She was abusive, that is. He never raised a hand to her.” Maybe not entirely true, but then Ty hadn’t been in his right mind either, or so he’d understood.

“That’s terrible. What happened?”

“She died.”

“Oh, fuck…”

“Yeah. Either accidentally or suicide, they’re not sure which. It was awhile ago now. It happened when I was…away.”

“In Norway. Why did you go there?”

He shifts. “I had business there. It didn’t turn out all that well.”

“Obviously not, if it brought Natalie here.” She flinches at her own words. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“It’s okay.” The thought of Helen doesn’t hurt anymore. “She’s gone now, it’s over. I have you.”

Dawn smiles. “I can live with that.”

Anders smiles too. “I guess we’re going to have to find room for the kid’s stuff.” 

“That would probably be a good idea.”

“There’s not much room here,” he says slowly, hoping she’ll catch on.

She does. “Not much room at mine, either.”

“We can look around, maybe. See what’s out there.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“Well, it doesn’t make much sense to be going back and forth between houses after it’s born, right? Babies have a _lot_ of stuff.”

She can’t hide her smile. “In that case, I accept.”

“Excellent.” And before he can say anything else, his phone buzzes with an incoming text.

 _Where are you?_ Mike. Of course.

“What?” Dawn asks, seeing his expression change.

“Nothing,” Anders says. “It’s just…I gotta go. I’ll be back soon.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out. It’ll just take a minute.”

“What will?”

“I’ll be right back!” He doesn’t mean to snap, but his heart is racing a mile a minute and he can feel the blood pounding in his ears. It’s one thing to tell himself that he’s going to march into the bar and announce that he wants to be mortal, and another thing entirely to actually do it. Dawn is pissed off, he knows, but he can’t tell her that it’s for her that he’s doing this. She can’t know.

He sees Axl’s car parked outside, and feels a renewed rush of fear, which is ridiculous because, Odin or not, Axl is his baby brother and he refuses to be scared of him. 

Of course, Axl is also considerably larger than him, and fucking strong as hell when he’s pissed off, Anders remembers uncomfortably as he enters.

“Good, you’re here,” Mike says. “As you all know, Sarah Freeberg’s 21st birthday is approaching, which means Gaia will be freed from Idunn, and clear to be Frigg. Ingrid, you’ll go down to Hawke’s Bay to be with Sarah. Anders, you’ll go too —“

“No,” he says simply.

Mike rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know, you work. This isn’t the time, Anders, now of all times, you need to —“

“I don’t need to do anything.” He keeps his voice steady and calm. “I’m done with god shit.” He catches Ty’s eye, and his brother gives him a little nod. That’s all the encouragement he needs to drop the bombshell.

“I want to be mortal.”

Silence. Then, “ _what?!”_ says Axl, and suddenly everyone is talking at once until Mike shuts them up.

“What the _fuck_ are you playing at?” he growls.

“I’m not playing,” Anders says. “I wish to renounce my god powers, and become mortal.”

“But…but _why?_ ” Axl says at last.

Anders sighs. “I have a girlfriend. Yes, it’s Dawn, if you were wondering. No, I did not Bragi Ty into forgetting her so I could make a move on her. Anyway, Dawn is pregnant. I’m going to be a father. You’re going to be uncles. Except for you —“ he points at Olaf — “you’re going to be a great-grandfather.”

Stunned silence. Then Olaf lets out a whoop of joy and crushes him in a hug. Anders can’t help but smile and let himself be hugged.

The others, however, are not so pleased. “That poor kid,” Axl says sadly.

Ander scoffs. “With our looks and our brains and our charms, this kid has it made. It’s gonna be the mayor of Auckland one day, just you wait. 

“Anders —“ Mike begins, and then breaks off, as if he doesn’t know what to say. “This isn’t…”

“A good idea?” Anders challenges him. 

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Mike says, in a tone of voice that said he totally was going to say that.

“I don’t care if you think it’s the worst idea in the world. The fact is, this is happening, and I suddenly and for obvious reasons don’t want to be a god anymore.”

“And how do you think you’re going to accomplish that?” Mike asks.

Anders shrugs. “Well, how did Ty do it?”

“Michele is already going to kill Gaia and resurrect her. She’s not going to want to do it to you too.”

“Why don’t we let her make that decision.” Which is an entirely reasonable thing to say; Michele would not be pleased if she knew Mike was trying to dictate her actions. 

“Fine. But you’re going to explain it to her.”

“I can do that.”

“Wait, you’re going to let him do this?” Axl cries. “Don’t I get a say? I am Odin!”

Anders clenches his fists. “Fine then, O mighty Odin. What are your thoughts on the matter?”

“What if we need you?”

“The ceremony is like a week away. What more could you possibly need me for?”

Axl shrugs uncomfortably. “It’s just not right.”

“You didn’t say that when it was Ty in my place.”

Axl shuffles uncomfortably and doesn’t have an answer for that. 

“The way I see it, you have no more use for me. So this is where I get off. I’ll become mortal, you’ll get Frigg, and everyone will be happy.”

“But you’ll be left behind.”

“Yes. I know.”

“You’re willing to give up your godhood for a woman?” Mike asks incredulously.

“Ty gave up his for the same woman.”

“She must be incredible.”

“She is.”

“You really want this?” Axl asks. “You really want to be mortal?”

“I really do,” Anders confirms. “I want to renounce my god powers. I don’t need them. I don’t want them. Being a god has brought me nothing but trouble.”

Axl looks like he’s about to respond, but freezes, eyes locked on something over Anders’ shoulder. 

Anders’ blood runs cold, because he knows exactly what Axl is staring at.. Slowly, he turns around to find what he was most fearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger alert! The chapter was getting super long so I cut it in half. Next chapter up on Wednesday night.


	15. Chapter 15

Dawn stands in the doorway, looking awkward and frightened and yet, like she thinks every member of the family  is insane. 

“What are you doing here?” he whispers.

“You left so suddenly,” Dawn says, and he can tell she’s getting defensive. “I thought…I thought…I don’t know what I thought.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to hear you calling yourself a god.” She steps forward. “Are you…some kind of cult? Please, just tell me what’s going on.”

“We’re not a cult,” Anders explains. He sighs. Might as well explain; she knows something’s up. “Look, can we just, go in private? I’ll explain everything.”

She eyes him warily. “I’m not sure I want to be in private right now.”

That cuts to the quick. “I would never hurt you,” he promises. “Do you trust me? I would never, ever hurt you.”

Dawn swallows, then nods.

“Great. Ah, Mike, would you mind…?”

Mike gestures to the stairs. “Be my guest.”

Anders nods his thanks and leads Dawn up the stairs. They sit down on the couch, and she looks at him expectantly and just waits.

“This is going to sound crazy,” Anders starts. His hands are shaking, and he clenches them tight. “And you’re going to think that I’ve gone insane. But I promise you, every word I say to you is true. All of it.”

“Okay…”

He takes a deep breath. “How much do you know about the Norse pantheon?”

“What, you mean like Odin and Thor and that stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s about it. Odin and Thor, and Loki?”

“Yeah, Loki was one too. Okay.” He breathes out again. “I’m not crazy, Dawn. I promise.”

“Anders, whatever it is, just tell me. You’re scaring me.”

“Okay. What if I told you that the Norse gods were real?”

“What, like you worship them? You follow a pagan religion?” She shrugs. “That’s not so crazy. Lots of people are pagan.”

“Not quite.” He shakes his head. “I don’t follow a god. I am a god. Or at least, I am the mortal vessel for a god.”

She narrows her eyes. “This is starting to sound crazy.”

“I know, and it only gets worse. My ancestors even further back — like, 1000 years ago or so — were descended from gods.”

“The Norse gods.”

“Right. For whatever reason, the Norse gods chose to leave Asgard — that’s their home — and become incarnate in human beings. For 1000 years, they lived among mortals. Only, as Christianity grew, pagans began to be persecuted, so 150 years ago, the gods, and goddesses, came to New Zealand aboard the _Hovding._ ”

“And you’re the descendant of those incarnations.”

“Yeah. Not just a descendent. I’m also an incarnation, or vessel.” Anders nods. “Look, I know it’s hard to believe. But please, please believe me. I’m not crazy, and my family is not a cult. We’re gods.”

“Who are you then? Are you Odin?”

“No, Odin is my baby brother. Axl. I’m Bragi, god of poetry. Only, right now I’m sort of not — it’s complicated. Mike is Ullr, the god of games. And Ty — he’s not a god anymore. He gave up his godhood. Like I’m going to do.”

“Are you.”

“Yes. Because Axl is Odin, and his girlfriend, Gaia, is going to be his wife, Frigg. She’s not Frigg right now — she’s Idunn, who is Bragi’s wife. Not my wife, Bragi’s. Helen, Helen was Idunn too, but she died - a god-hunter killed her, Natalie from Norway, that’s why she came from Norway, anyway, when Helen died, Idunn had to go somewhere — there always has to be an Idunn in the world, it’s a god thing, so Idunn went into Gaia.” The words tumble out, on and on, even though he knows he’s digging himself in deeper. “So I slept with her — she came to me, even though I didn’t want to. I had to. It was just after I lost Bragi, when he was banished by Odin, by Axl, and when I was with Gaia it was the only time I could feel him, and I needed that, Dawn. I needed him. So I slept with her. 

“Oh, of course,” Dawn says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. “As you do.”

“Yeah. Only, Axl didn’t quite understand. He banished Bragi until Gaia could be re-assigned. I haven’t had access to my powers in months, and I don’t miss them any more. I don’t.”

“Your powers.”

“Right.”

“You have superpowers.”

“Not right now I don’t.”

“Of course not,” she says again. She’s silent for a minute, and then bursts out laughing. “God, Anders, you are such a prick,” she says. “How long have you been concocting this story, eh? Did you really think I would fall for that? How stupid do you think I am?” Her eyes narrow. “What are you hiding? Are you cheating on me? With your brother’s girlfriend? Is that it? Oh my god, is this because I told you about my mother? My crazy mother? Who started claiming she was a goddess before she died? Because if you did…”

“No!” Anders rushes to calm her. Getting upset can’t be good for the baby. “I am _not_ seeing anyone, least of all Gaia. I am not making this up. Every word I’ve said to you is true. And I don’t believe your mother was crazy. I think she really was the Eir, the goddess of healing.”

“You fucking prick,” she hisses, and stands up. “You are _sick_. To play on something you _know_ is a sore spot with me. I was wrong about you. You haven’t changed at all. You’ve gotten _worse_.” She walks down the stairs, and Anders follows her, at a loss of what to say.

Dawn marches up to Mike. “Your brother is crazy,” she announces. “You need to get him help. He’s having delusions of grandeur.”

“No, he’s not,” Mike says quietly. “He’s telling the truth.”

“Oh god, not you too. What, do you think you have superpowers too?”

Mike pauses. “Yes,” he says at last.

“Sure you do.”

“Mike, just show her,” Anders says. There’s a note of pleading in his voice. “Please.”

Another pause. Then Mike nods. “All right. We’re going to play Paper, Rock, Scissors. Go.” 

It takes exactly 21 rounds before Dawn falters. “How are you doing that?” she says.

“I’m Ullr. The god of games. I cannot lose a game, Dawn.”

“No, it’s a trick. It has to be.”

“It’s not a trick. Choose any game in here — darts, pool, hell even checkers or Go Fish. You cannot win against me.”

Dawn swallows. “Oh my god,” she whispers. 

“Gods, actually,” Anders says. 

She turns to face him. “You’re telling the truth.”

“Why does everyone look so surprised when they say that?” he laments. 

“So what’s your power, then? Do you just write really spectacular poetry, or what?” There’s a note of sarcasm in her voice.

“No. I can…influence people. To do things. But only things that they already secretly want to do.”

“I don’t understand.”

Anders looks to Axl. “May I?” Axl nods. Then Bragi fills him, thrashing and angry, and he wonders for a moment if he’ll be able to control his god once he lets him out.

“I’m going to use my powers on you,” he explains to Dawn. “Don’t be frightened. I will not put you in danger.”

“O-okay…”

He takes a deep breath and has to keep a tight hold on Bragi. He can feel the god thrumming in his mind, and he knows that if he’s not careful, he could do some real damage.

“Dawn,” he says, his voice feeling heavy. “I want you to go over to the bar and get a drink. You’ve earned it. You need it. Don’t worry about the baby. It’ll be fine.”

Dawn has that glassy-eyed look. She nods, and heads over to the bar. She’s just cracking open a beer, when Anders yells “ _Stop!”_ and she comes back to herself, looking shaken.

“Now you know,” he says softly. 

She shakes her head. “Now I know.” She comes around the other side of the bar, giving the beer a longing look.  Then her expression changes, and she looks up with a piercing glare. “Have you ever used that power on me before?”

Anders swallows. “Dawn, I…”

“ _Have you ever used that power on me before?”_

Slowly he nods. 

“Oh my god. What have you made me do? Did you force me into this? Into being with you and having your kid?”

“What? _No!_ Dawn, I haven’t been able to use my powers for months. And I would never do that, ever. And it only works on people who already want to do it.”

“Well thank god for small favours,” she snaps sarcastically. “Or is that thank _you_ for small favours?”

“Dawn…”

“No. Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me, don’t…just don’t. I don’t want to see you for awhile.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. Just stay away from me.” And she storms out of the bar.

Anders watches her go, and feels like his world is falling apart yet again. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: brief references to suicide and suicidal ideation. 
> 
> Finally we get to the third act. This was actually the first part of this story that I ever thought of, before the rest of the plot, before I'd even decided it was going to be Dawn/Anders! I'm actually quite excited, and impressed with myself that I was able to keep it going this far!

_“Summer time, and the living is easy…”_

_“Don’t start me that talking, I’ll tell everyone I know…”_

_“Baby please don’t go…”_

The air is alive with music as the First Annual Auckland Open-Air Jazz Festival gets into full swing. Musicians from all over the country have come to Auckland, each hoping to be discovered or to find someone new to play with. There’s an atmosphere of hope, of love, of pure joy in music.

Anders doesn’t hear any of it. It’s the first time he’s been sober in three days, and spending it at a Jazz Festival is the last thing he wants to do.

Anders really fucking hates jazz.

Unfortunately, he knows his presence is required. There are news cameras all over the place and he’s already had to put out a few fires as drunk idiots decided this was the time to trot out their pet causes. Really, is it just so hard to smile, say how happy you are to be in Auckland, and then move on? Why does everything have to be an opportunity to rail against injustice or the police or even just society in general? Who the hell even knew jazz musicians could be so unruly?

He wonders if Dawn is having the same luck, and tries to ignore the flash of pain thinking of her causes. She’s here, somewhere, but she hasn’t sought him out. Why would she?  She’s a publicist in her own right now, just like he’d promised. He’s fully expecting that tomorrow morning there will be a resignation letter on his desk, and a new PR agency in Auckland.

He looks down at his phone hopefully, as though a text message would appear just from sheer force of will. Nothing, of course. Dawn hasn’t said two words to him outside of their jobs since the night at the bar. Fuck, had it only been a few days? It felt like years. Probably because he’s been drunk the whole time.

“Mr. Johnson!” 

Anders sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Dealing with the organizer of the Festival was trying at the best of times, but now, when he is hungover, tired and depressed, it seems impossible.

“What, Richard?” he asks, his voice flat.

“Did you leave the press passes like you said you were going to?” he demands. “Because there’s five reporters at the front gate who are very upset with me.”

“I…” he thinks. Had he? “I think…”

Richard shakes his head. “I’m going to ask Miss Larsson,” he humphs, “because clearly, you are not capable of doing your job.” 

“Is she here?”

“Of course she’s here. And she’s far more ‘here’ than you are. You should be ashamed.” 

Anders barely resists the urge to flip him off as he walks away. The sound of jazz music fills his ears and he begins to walk, trying to find somewhere, anywhere to make it stop. It’s only 9:30, and there’s four more hours of this to go, until he can go home and curl up in bed with a jumbo-size bottle of Fenrir and never come out. 

He finds a place a little ways away on the waterfront where the music isn’t so loud, and pauses just to think, to try to just breathe. The moon is bright shining over the water, big and full and beautiful, and it only contributes to his foul mood.

If everything had gone well, this was the night he’d meant to propose to Dawn. Right in this very place, with the full moon shining over them. 

 _Maybe it’s for the best_ , he thinks. _I would only have hurt her._ _I’d be a terrible father._

That’s the only thing that hurts worse than losing Dawn. The fact that now, he’ll never know his child. 

He looks down into the water. It’s black and fathomless, and the sudden thought occurs to him — it would be so easy to just fall. No one would ever know until it’s far too late, and it would look like an accident. 

His eyes burn as he remembers the last time he contemplated ending it all. Only this time, Dawn isn’t here to pull him back from the edge.

Anders doesn’t know how long he stays in that spot, fighting the lump in his throat, trying to recompose himself so he can re-join the Festival. Finally he pushes away. There’s no use in staying here all night, and ten more problems have probably arisen in his absence. 

A wave of dizziness and exhaustion washes over him as his body reminds him sharply that he’s not 17 and in uni anymore, he simply _can’t_ pull multiple all-nighters without feeling the consequences anymore. His head hurts and his chest burns. He puts a steadying hand on the railing and waits for it to pass. It doesn’t.

His vision begins to go grey, and he knows he needs to find a place to sit down. _Now._  

He moves away from the railing, toward a bench on the side of the path, but it’s too late. He finds himself on the ground, and the world fades in a cacophony of music and the rush of blood in his ears.

~~~

Anders opens his eyes slowly and blinks until his vision clears. He’s lying in bed with an IV in his arm and an oxygen tube in his nose, so it’s no great mystery what happened. 

 _Fucking great,_ he thinks, letting his eyes fall closed again. On top of everything else, now this. 

He’s wearing an ugly blue hospital gown and his clothes are nowhere in sight, so even if he wanted to do a runner, he couldn’t. There’s a pulse monitor clipped to his finger on his left hand, and patches on his chest leading to the heart monitor, which beeps sedately. He wonders if anyone has told Dawn what’s happened.

The curtain pulls back and an older man in a white coat enters. “Ah, Mr. Johnson, you’re awake. Excellent. I’m Dr. Grey. How are we feeling?”

“Fine,” Anders shrugs. “When can I get out of here? I really need to get back to work.”

Dr. Grey clucks his tongue. “Well, you were seriously dehydrated when you were brought in, so I’m going to keep you here for a little longer and run in a few more bags of IV fluids.”

“Fucking great,” Anders says, out loud this time.

“Is there anyone we can call for you?”

Anders pauses. “My um…my girlf— my partner. I think her number’s in my phone—“

“ _Anders!”_ And his entire body goes limp with relief as Dawn pushes aside the curtain, concern written all over her face. 

“They told me what happened,” she says. “They said you collapsed, but no one could tell me where…I’ve been calling every hospital in Auckland. Are you…how are you feeling?”

“I’m…all right,” Anders says. “Just dehydrated.”

“You look like shit. When was the last time you slept?”

“A few days ago. It’s fine.”

“A few days…Anders! It’s not fine—“

“You know how busy we’ve been…”

“Yeah, but —“ she’s cut off as her phone rings. She answers it and listens to the loud voice on the other end with a sigh. “Richard…this isn’t really a good time…”

“Go,” Anders whispers. 

Dawn shakes her head. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just…just don’t say anything else, all right?” She ends the call.

“Go on,” Anders says. “Sounds like you’re needed.”

Dawn hesitates. “Are you…are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. The doctor says I’ll be here for a while longer at least.”

“Okay, love.” She squeezes his hand and bends over to kiss his forehead. “Get some rest.”

“Dawn,” he calls as she opens the curtain. “Does this mean…you’re not mad anymore?”

Dawn sighs. “We’ll talk, all right? When this is over, when you’re feeling better, we’ll talk.”

Anders nods, feeling lighter than he has in days. 

The curtain opens again. “Mr. Johnson?” Dr. Grey is back, and Anders immediately senses the change in his demeanour. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay…”

“Do you have a history of heart problems? Or a family history of heart problems?”

 “No, I don’t think so.”

“Before you passed out, were you experiencing any chest pain at all?”

He thinks back, and then nods. “Yeah. But it was just indigestion. I had a fucking Big Mac for dinner, it always makes me—“

But Dr. Grey is shaking his head. “It wasn’t indigestion, I don’t believe.”

Anders takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “I thought you said I was just dehydrated.”

“You are, and it may have contributed. When the paramedics reached you, you were experiencing ventricular tachycardia, which is a form of arrythmia, or irregular heartbeat. It was able to be corrected in the ambulance with medication, but I’m concerned that it could return if we don’t find out the underlying cause. Like I said, you are badly dehydrated, and exhausted too, and that may have been the trigger.”

“So..what are you saying?” Anders says softly, trying to take in all this new information. 

“We’re running some tests, and I’m going to keep you overnight for observation. You’ll stay hooked up to the heart monitor, and I’ll do another EKG in a bit. You’ll keep receiving fluids by IV, and hopefully that will be the end of it.”

“So…when will you know what’s wrong?”

“We’re running some tests. I’ll let you know when the results come back from the lab.”

“But it could be nothing, right?”

“That’s entirely possible,” Dr. Grey nods. “I’ll let you know when I know more. Until then, rest.”

Anders nods, trying to stay calm. Getting upset won’t make anything better, and might even make it worse. So he closes his eyes and naps for awhile, because whatever else is going on, the doctor is right - he is fucking exhausted. 

Some time later, he opens his eyes to find Olaf standing at the foot of his bed.

“I had a dream,” Olaf says.

“That’s great, grandpa. I was dreaming too, and I’d like to go back to that.”

“It was about why you’re in here.”

“It’s just dehydration,” Anders sighs, rolling his eyes. “I’m fine. Really.”

“No, you’re not. It’s your heart, isn’t it.”

Olaf’s statement brings him up short.  “What? How did you — Did the doctor tell you something? Do you know something? Is there a family history of this kind of thing?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Okay, so…”

“Bragi likes you very much,” Olaf says. “And he isn’t happy that you’re trying to get rid of him.”

Anders narrows his eyes. “What?”

“Bragi wants to be a full god. Now that Odin and Frigg are so close to being reunited, he’s angry that you’re going to evict him from his vessel, and force him to miss out on ascending to Asgard.”

Anders licks his lips nervously as the full weight of Olaf’s words settle on him. “You’re saying that Bragi has something to do with this. With…with what happened.” He isn’t ready to say the word just yet. To say it would make it all too real, and he’s still holding out hope that this is all a misunderstanding.

“Yes,” Olaf says simply.“You’ve been having chest pains for a while, haven’t you. Whenever you talk about becoming mortal, you start rubbing your chest like it hurts.”

“Indigestion.”

Olaf shakes his head. “You have a shit diet, Anders, but it can’t always be indigestion.”

“No,” Anders laughs. “No, that’s ridiculous. That’s impossible. No way. Look, I’ve had like four hours of sleep over the last three days because of this stupid festival and all the shit that went down with Dawn. And I was drunk most of those days, so I didn’t really eat, or drink anything that wasn’t alcohol-infused, so…that’s why I’m here. Not Bragi. That’s impossible. I’ll be fine, you’ll see. They’re running tests, that’ll prove it. They won’t find anything.” He knows he’s rambling now, the words tumbling out faster than his breathing can keep up, so he closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths through his nose until he feels more steady.

“Anders—“

“They won’t find anything, grandpa,” he says. “I’m fine.”

He keeps his eyes closed, signalling that the conversation is over. After a few minutes, he hears Olaf get up and pull the curtain aside. Then he tries to relax and fall back asleep, and put Olaf’s words out of his mind, but it doesn’t work. 

Bragi is responsible for this. Bragi is angry. It’s impossible, it has to be, because fucking hell, how do you fight a god? No, it can’t be true.

He doesn’t know how long he lays there, dozing off and on and trying to stay calm, repeating the mantra over and over again, _they won’t find anything. It’s just a coincidence, they won’t find anything._ _Bragi did not do this, he could not do this. It doesn’t work that way._

He opens his eyes again as Dr. Grey enters, a grim expression on his face. 

“When can I leave?” Anders asks. But Dr. Grey shakes his head.

“Mr. Johnson, your test results are back. I’m admitting you. You need to see a cardiologist immediately.”

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back. Sorry for the delay; uni started up again.

“This isn’t possible,” Anders whispers. “I’m thirty-four years old. I’m way too young for this.”

Beside him, Dawn tightens her grip on his hand.

The cardiologist, Dr. Burns, looks grave and studies the chart in his hands. “It’s unusual, I will admit, for a man of your age who has no previous heart conditions, but I assure you, it’s very, very possible.”

Anders tunes out as the cardiologist begins explaining just what’s wrong with his heart. He doesn’t need to know.

_Bragi. Bragi is what’s wrong with it._

“So what do we do now?” Dawn asks, ever practical. “How do we fix this?”

“I’m afraid there’s no real way to fix it,” Dr. Burns begins. “The damage has been done. Now, it’s a process of discovering the cause of the damage and mitigating that, so that no new damage is caused.”

“Okay, so how do we do that.”

“It’s hard to say, really. Medication, of course, will be the first step, as well as significant lifestyle changes.”

“What kind of lifestyle changes?” Anders asks suspiciously. 

“Well, for starters, absolutely no alcohol.”

“Pass.”

“Anders!” Dawn hisses, smacking his arm. “Sorry. Go on.”

The cardiologist raises his eyebrow. “As I was saying…medication is the first line of defence. From there, it will be a question of constant monitoring, both in-hospital and at home.”

Anders clenches his fingers at the thought of endless doctor’s appointments and hospital visits. It’s bad enough he’s here now, for this length of time. He’s not sure he can face having to come back again and again and again.

“And if that doesn’t work?” Dawn asks.

“Then we’ll have to consider more drastic measures, such as a pacemaker implanted directly onto your heart, or a defibrillator.”

Anders pales at the thought of surgery, but Dawn nods resolutely. “Thank you, doctor.”

“If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“When can I go home?” Anders asks.

“It’s hard to say,” Dr. Burns says, pursing his lips as he reviews the chart in his hands. “Continuous monitoring is going to be crucial in the next few days. Mr. Johnson, I’m going to be blunt. Your heart is significantly damaged, and we don’t know why. We cannot predict if it’s going to stay the same, or get worse. I don’t think I have to tell you that a heart that doesn’t beat properly is a serious problem - a deadly problem. Right now, a hospital with immediate access to emergency cardiac equipment and trained staff is the best place for you.”

Anders swallows, and nods. Dawn’s hand tightens on his fingers, but she remains calm. “Thank you, doctor,” she says again. The cardiologist nods and leaves the room.

Neither of them speak. It’s odd, he thinks, that he has so much to say, but he can’t find the words to even begin. So he settles back against the pillow and sighs.

“Well. This is unexpected.”

“Yeah.” She looks up at him. “Does it — does it hurt?”

“No,” he says. “That’s the weird thing. I feel fine. Nothing hurts, not even all their stupid tests. Except for the one where I had to walk on a treadmill with my arse hanging out of the gown. That was just humiliating.”

His quip has the intended effect. Dawn smiles despite herself. 

“The Festival,” he says, changing the subject. Suddenly, all he wants to do is get it out of his head for awhile. “How did that end up?”

“Despite all of Richard’s whining, and a few ill-timed comments to the press, it was a major success. And I think I succeeded in getting a few more potential clients on board. Some of the lesser-known bands seemed eager to get their names out there.”

“Not more jazz!” Anders groans. Dawn giggles.

“What about the Mitchell account?”

“Fine. I spoke to them on the phone and explained what was going on, and they were willing to reschedule.”

“Great.”

Dawn looks away. “I haven’t given them a new date, yet. I wasn’t sure…when you’d be…you know.”

“Well, you can always handle it on your own. I trust you.”

“I don’t want to!” she says petulantly. “I want you there.”

“Then I will be there,” he vows. “I’m going to beat this, Dawn. I didn’t come this far to be beaten by a fucking heart condition.”

“What if it’s not,” she whispers. “I’ve been talking to your cousin…grandfather…Olaf. He thinks it’s…this Bragi, that’s doing it.”

Anders sighs. “Olaf is stoned most of the time, and you can’t believe most of what he tells you.”

“But is it?”

He sighs again. “It seems so.”

 "Shit Anders...this is real, isn't it?" 

 "Yeah. It is." He shifted uncomfortably, and abruptly changed the subject. "You're still here."

 "What?"

 He laughs without much humour. "I was sure there'd be a resignation letter on my desk on Monday morning, and you'd run away screaming."

 Dawn looks away. "Would you blame me?"

 "Not in the slightest," Anders says, and he really means it. "Which brings it back around to: you're still here."

 "Yeah. I am. I mean, I guess this is my life too, isn't it? My mum, she was one of you."

 "Probably. It sounds like it, yeah."

 "Then I guess I'm half-goddess."

 "No way," Anders disagrees. "You are way better than any goddess. You're not like them at all."

 "Uh...I see. Anyway..."

 "Are you still mad?" There it is, the question he'd been fearing. Although it probably is a good sign that she's still here, it does give an opening.

 Dawn sighs. "No. And yes. I'm angry about a lot of things about this whole situation. I'm angry that you kept me in the dark. I'm your girlfriend, Anders. We're not supposed to have secrets from each other, and this whole time you've had this other life."

 "I had to," he tries to explain, knowing how feeble it sounds. "It was for your own protection."

 "Right. Because it never ends well for mortals who know about god stuff. I've been talking to your cousin--Grandfather--Olaf."

 "Axl's friend found out and got a flaming steak to the face. I couldn't take that risk, Dawn." 

 "Okay...I'm not even going to ask."

 "The point is...if you got hurt because of me, Dawn...I couldn't live with that."

 "And yet, you had no problem hurting anyone else. How many women did you talk into bed with that little trick of yours?"

 "Too many," he admits. "I'm not proud of what I did. I was stupid, and out of control at times, and I can't make excuses."

 Her gaze softens. "Olaf thinks it had something to do with Bragi. Like he made you do it, or something."

 Anders shakes his head. "Bragi can't _make_ me do anything. But a god's _influence_ is strong, and let’s face it, I was a pretty shitty person to begin with."

 "I don't believe that. Not for a second."

 "Really?" And almost against his will, his eyes start to get misty. He blinks hard a few times to clear them. "Then you're the only person in the world who doesn't."

  "These last few months, you've been completely changed. Like a normal human being."

 "Because I haven't been Bragi these last few months," he finishes. "Axl banished him right after Helen died."

 "Helen was a goddess." Dawn rolls her eyes. "Of course she was."

 "She was Idunn. Bragi's wife, in Asgard."

 "That explains why you couldn't keep your hands off her."

 "Now you're getting it. I didn't even _like_ her. Sure she was hot, and the sex was great--"

 " _Anders."_

  _"_ Sorry, sorry, sorry. Anyway, she died, Idunn got bounced out of her and into Gaia, Axl’s girlfriend.”

 “The girlfriend you slept with.”

 “Yeah.”

 “Because of Bragi.”

 “I wouldn’t touch her for any other reason. I don’t even like her. But whatever. The point is, gods are fucked up and crazy and I don’t want anything more to do with it. Especially now with the…the baby, and everything. I wanted to rid myself of Bragi. I still plan to, when this is taken care of, because things are about to change and I don’t want to go back to Asgard. I’m staying here. If you’ll still have me.”

 Dawn smiles softly. “I’m still not entirely okay with it, I think. But I don’t think it’s something we can’t get past.”

 “Good,” he sighs with relief. “I love you, Dawn.”

 “I know you do. And I — _Anders!”_

 Later on, Dawn would reflect that she had never seen anyone go so perfectly _grey_ as he had in that moment. The heart monitors begin to scream discordantly, as his heartbeat dissolves into frantic, useless flutters. She wants to shout for help, but no sound comes out. The door opens and Dr. Burns, followed by three people in blue scrubs dash in.

 “Ma’am you’re going to have to leave,” barks the doctor. “This is a code blue. He’s in v-fib. Not breathing, pressure’s dropping, push the epi —“

Dawn bolts for the door, blindly pushing it open and trying to run before being caught up in a tangle of arms. Belatedly she recognizes Ty and Olaf, staring through the door to where the doctors are performing CPR. Mike and Axl aren’t far behind. 

“What happened?” Ty asks breathlessly.

“I don’t know,” Dawn whispers, and her voice breaks. “We were just talking!” she sobs. “He was _fine_ and we were just talking and then he just went _grey_ and everything started happening and oh god I didn’t tell him, I didn’t even get to tell him that I loved him —“  

“Shit…” Axl swears softly behind her, and she follows his gaze. From behind the door, she can hear the voice of the doctor, muffled but painfully clear.

“I can’t get a rhythm. Get the paddles.” And she wants to look away, she desperately wants to look away as they shock him.

“I didn’t tell him,” she whispers, the whine of the paddles charging ringing loud in her ears. “I didn’t get to tell him.” 

 _THUMP._ Anders’ body jerks with the shock. Dawn shuts her eyes. This is it, he’s going to die, he’s going to die, he’s — 

 _“_ Wait, wait — we’ve got a rhythm,” the doctor shouts, and suddenly she feels like she can breathe again. 

 

~~~

It’s two hours before the doctor lets Dawn and the others in to see Anders. He’s still unconscious, with pale skin and a worrying blue-ish tint to his lips and fingernails, but the heart monitor beeps steadily and reassuringly. He’s okay.

For now.

She sinks down into the chair by the bed, just watching him breathe. There’s an oxygen mask over his face, but he’s breathing on his own, and she’ll take that as a victory.

Hesitantly, she reaches out, her hand fluttering over his. The doctor didn’t say she can’t touch him, but he looks so fragile, she thinks she might break him. Gently, she brushes her fingers over his wrist, then closes them over his hand. His skin is cool.

Anders sighs a little and opens his eyes. 

“Hey, bro,” Ty says. “Gave us a bit of a scare, there.”

“Don’t ever do that again,” Dawn implores. It’s silly, but it’s all she can think of to say. As though if she asks him, if she _forbids_ it, she can stop this thing in it’s tracks.

Anders bats weakly at the mask.

“Maybe you should keep that on,” she says worriedly, but he rolls his eyes. She shakes her head and lifts it off. “Bragi or not, you still get what you want,” she sighs. 

Anders huffs a laugh at that. “What happened?”

“Not sure, really. One minute everything was fine, and then…”

“Bragi,” he says grimly. “We were talking about —“

“Don’t say it,” Dawn begs. “Just in case.”

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

She glances at the others, wondering how much she should say. “Well, they had to go hard on you.”

“Sounds a bit rude,” he smirks tiredly. Dawn rolls her eyes, but feels some of the tension draining away. She’s just about to reply, when the doors open again, and Dr. Burns strides in.

“Mr Johnson. You gave us quite a scare.”

“So I’ve been told. When can I go home?”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Dawn instinctively grips his hand harder, and he squeezes back. On the other side of the bed, she can see the brothers almost physically bracing themselves.

“You are a very, very sick man, Mr. Johnson. What you experienced was called a sudden cardiac arrest.”

“A heart attack?”

“No. Worse. It’s caused by a complete malfunction of the heart’s electrical system, resulting in ventricular fibrillation, which is a fatal heart arrythmia. In nineteen out of twenty cases, the result is death. We were able to correct the rhythm by shocking your heart.”

“He was dead?” Axl asks, confused.

“No. It’s a common misconception that the paddles are used to shock a patient with no heartbeat. The shock interrupts the arrythmia and allows the heart to ‘reset’, as it were. Which it did. However, once you’ve experienced sudden cardiac arrest, you are always at risk for another one.”

“I’m never getting out of here,” Anders groans quietly.

 _Don’t talk that way,_ Dawn wants to scream. _Don’t even joke._

The doctor hesitates. “I’m afraid that’s not the end of it. I don’t know if it was caused the arrythmia, or if the arrythmia caused it, but the damage to your heart has progressed very, very quickly. I’ve honestly never seen a condition deteriorate so rapidly. Your heart is very weak, and the damage, I believe, is incompatible with life.”

Dawn feels her blood run cold. “What are you saying?” she whispers.

“Mr. Johnson, you need a heart transplant, or you will die. I’ve put your name on the list at A-1 priority. However, if a heart does not become available within the next few days…” He doesn’t have to finish his sentence.

Anders looks up at the ceiling, blinking hard. “I’m thirty-four years old,” he whispers. “I’m way too young for this.”

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

Dawn doesn’t look up as the door to the cardiac ICU opens and someone sits down on the other side of the bed. It doesn’t matter who’s here, it won’t change anything, and these booties won’t knit themselves, will they.

“How’s he doing?” Mike whispers.

“He’s asleep.”

“I can see that.” He smiles. “I think this is the most he’s slept…ever. Even as a baby he barely slept.”

“Yes, well, heart failure does tend to take a lot out of you.”

As soon as she says it, she regrets it. Mike is only making conversation. She doesn’t need to snap like that. 

“Sorry,” she murmurs, dropping her gaze back to her half-finished knitting. “I’m just…” _Tired. Stressed. Scared out of my fucking mind._

“No worries.”

“He’s stable,” Dawn tries again. “Which is…something, I guess.” She shivers as, unbidden, the memory of yesterday rises in her mind, of the way he’d just passed out and stopped breathing, and the whine of the paddles and the way he jerked with the shock, each one stronger than the last…

“Dawn?”

She blinks, trying to clear her head. “Sorry. Just…thinking.” 

“Ty and Axl have gone for coffees. They should be back soon.”

She nods gratefully. Coffee sounds great right about now; fuck the fact that technically, she’s not even supposed to have caffeine. Right now, it’s about the only thing keeping her going. 

Anders wakes as the two younger Johnsons enter with the drinks. He bats at the oxygen mask until Dawn removes it. “One of those is for me, right?” 

“Sorry, bro. When you’re feeling better,” Ty says.

“S’all right. I’d rather have a beer instead.” 

Dawn smiles out of pure relief. If he can joke, then he must be feeling better, right? She helps him drink from the cup of ice chips, then replaces the mask. He’s short of breath already.

“Any news?” Ty asks.

“Nothing,” Dawn shakes her head. “No one can even tell us anything.” And that’s the worst part, she thinks to herself. This _waiting_ , knowing that every hour that passes Anders gets weaker, and soon its going to get to the point where he’ll be too weak for surgery, even if a heart can be found…

No. She won’t think that way. Things will turn out. They _will_. They haven’t come this far to be beaten now. 

( _This is a god you’re dealing with,_ her subconscious reminds her. _This isn’t nature, it isn’t biology, this is something you can’t even imagine.)_

They move aside as a nurse comes in to check on Anders. She takes his blood pressure and pulse and myriad other things and shakes her head. 

“How bad?” Anders whispers.

“Not good,” she answers. “How are you feeling?”

“Not good.”

“Well that’s to be expected. Hang in there, Mr. Johnson. They’re doing everything they can.”

“I want a second opinion,” Anders jokes tiredly when the nurse has left the room, and just like that, a light goes off in her head.

“You’re _gods_ ,” she says. “Don’t you have like, god doctors?”

The change that comes over Mike’s face is instantaneous. “Michele,” he sighs in a tone of voice that clearly says _goddam, we are stupid._

Ty gasps. “Is she here? Fuck, why didn’t we think of this?”

Mike looks at his watch. “She should be. Let’s go.” He gets up and almost runs out of the room, Ty and Axl on his heels, and then she and Anders are alone.

It’s odd, she thinks. This is the first time she’s been alone with him since things started really getting bad.

Anders pulls the mask off again. “What are you making?”

“Oh. Booties. Supposed to be.” She holds up the unfinished piece. The right side was clearly much larger than the left. “It’s supposed to be like that,” she defends. “It’s avant-garde.”

He laughs. “Beautiful, smart and well-dressed. This kid is going places.”

“She’s going to take over the world.”

“He sure is.”

They look at each other, then break into laughter. It feels good to laugh. Dawn thinks that she’d almost forgotten how.

“How is it?” he asks. “Not giving you too much trouble?”

“No,” Dawn says, “I feel fine. Except for having to pee every ten minutes, and suddenly my clothes are getting tight, I haven’t felt bad at all. I haven’t even thrown up in days.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, except…” Dawn hesitates, then barrels on. Anders is her boyfriend; if she can’t talk to him then who _can_ she talk to? “I almost wish I did feel more,” she admits. “Maybe it would make it real. Right now I almost forget I’m pregnant sometimes. Then it all comes back and it just seems so _wrong_ , you know? I feel like…if I haven’t suffered for this baby, maybe that means…it means…” she breaks off, her eyes filling with tears and she dashes them away before he can see. 

“Stop it,” Anders orders, squeezing her fingers. “That’s ridiculous and you know it. You’re going to be the best mother, Dawn. Besides, being sick is fucking miserable. You don’t want this.”

She laughs softly even while wiping away tears. “Thanks,” she says sincerely. “I needed that.”

“Anytime,” he promises. “I mean that, Dawn. Anytime.” And she knows what he’s really saying is _I will be here._

The effort of talking for so long has exhausted him, so he closes his eyes and falls back to sleep. After a moment, Dawn leans over and lays her head down on the mattress beside him, because she can’t remember the last time she slept.

They both wake when the door opens again; Dawn with a jump and Anders more slowly, as though its getting harder to wake up. Mike and Ty and Axl are back, followed by Olaf and a tall brunette in gray scrubs with beautiful but sharp features…

“I know you!” Dawn says. “You came to the office looking for Anders.” Gods, had that only been a few weeks ago? It felt like years.

“Michele,” the woman says. “You must be Dawn, Anders’ beloved. You poor thing.”

“She’s a doctor,” Axl grins. “And a goddess.”

“No chance you’re a healing goddess?” Dawn asks.

“A love goddess, actually,” Michele replies, somewhat coldly. 

“O-oh. I see.”

“Give her a chance,” Ty says. “She brought me back when I was dead from getting rid of Hodr.”

“Yeah, and she healed me when I was in a coma,” Axl adds.

“But you’re a love goddess,” Dawn says. “It doesn’t involve like…love, does it?”

Michele sneers. “Ew. No.” She  picks up the chart from the side of the bed, and her eyes widen. “Shit, Anders.”

“Who would have thought, eh?” he asks.

“Oh, I always figured you would die young. I just thought it would be liver failure. Not heart failure.” For an instant, her expression softens.

“So it is fatal,” Mike says. “There’s no chance…”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s bad. And it’s getting worse.”

“Okay, but — the stick!” Ty says excitedly. “You brought me back from the fucking _dead_ , Michele - surely you can fix this.”

“Is this true?” Dawn asks, hope blooming in her chest. “What stick? And you can really bring people back to life? Like, if they were completely dead?” _This is too good to be true,_ the pragmatic part of her whispers, but the overwhelming part of her wants to believe.

Michele hesitates. “Does she —?”

“It’s okay,” Mike says. “She knows. It’s a branch of the Yggdrasil - the tree of life.”

“So that’s where it went,” Anders sighs, then frowns. “Wait — you took my stick?”

But Dawn freezes. _Yggdrasil._ “My — my mother used to talk about that,” she whispers. “When she was particularly unwell — only she wasn’t sick, as it turns out — she used to talk about Yggdrasil.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mother,” Dawn begins slowly, because it still feels weird to say, “was Eir. Probably.”

Silence. Ty takes a breath as if to say something, then falls still.

“I always knew there was something about you,” Olaf proclaims. 

“She _was_ Eir,” Ty says, frowning. “I guess she’s not…”

“She died a few months ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I. The goddess of healing would be pretty useful in this situation,” she says wryly.

“Hey,” Michele begins, looking outraged.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Olaf says, shaking his head. “Eir or Sjofn-plus-stick, neither will be able to heal Anders.”

“What do you mean?” Dawn whispers, feeling her hopes crash around her. “I thought you said you could bring people back from the _dead_!”

“I can!” Michele protests.

“Not this time. Or rather, you can but it wouldn’t help. When Ty died, it was voluntary, and it was through outside sources. But Anders is sick because Bragi is pissed off. If you healed him, right now, all it would do would restore his heart back to normal so Bragi could start again.” 

“Fucking great,” Anders whispers, and turns his head to the side so his brothers won’t notice him blinking hard.

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Dawn asks, and she’s ashamed because she knows the others can hear the tears in her voice, but she can’t hold them back much longer.

Olaf shrugs. “You can hope,” he says. “Science is amazing these days.”

“Yes,” she replies, her voice brittle. “It is.”

The others sense the tense mood. “Maybe we should go for a bit,” Ty says. “I’ve got a few housecalls to make…unless you’d rather I stayed…?”

“No, go,” Dawn says. She’s fairly sure he’s making it up, but she’s grateful. Right now, five other people in the small space is just too much. Anders looks exhausted, and she knows he won’t rest if they’re here. They murmur their goodbyes and promises to stop by later, and file out.

“They’re going to find one,” Dawn whispers, and she’s not sure who she’s talking more to - Anders or herself. “They will find a heart. They _will._ ”

“Course they will,” he answers. “People die all the time, at least one of them’s gotta have a heart to give.”

She giggles despite herself. “You’re awful.”

“You knew that.”

“Yes. I did.” 

“But you still love me.”

“Always.” 

“Then that’s half the battle, isn’t it?”

And then suddenly all the tears come bubbling up and she’s powerless to stop them; she’s held them in for days and they simply won’t be denied anymore. She cries and cries; for Anders, for herself, for this whole stupid situation they’ve found themselves in and the hopelessness and the endlessness and how the _fuck_ do you battle against a fucking god, for fuck’s sake? They might as well just give up now.

Anders just smoothes her hair and lets her cry until it’s finally over and she simply _can’t_ anymore. She’s drained and exhausted, and only wants to sleep. She can’t remember the last time she has.

“Don’t,” Anders says, as he watches Dawn try to get comfortable in the chair beside the bed. “You’ll never get comfortable like that. Come up here. Lay with me.”

She hesitates, looking at all the various tubes and leads and wires doubtfully. “Are you sure? Am I allowed?”

“I really don’t give a fuck. Come up here. Please, Dawn.” And she realizes that he’s asking her as much for his sake as it is for hers.

Carefully she moves things out of the way and awkwardly climbs up next to him. It’s the first time in weeks they’ve lain together, and she chokes back another sob. If she’d known then…! Dawn pulls up the blanket over them as Anders drapes his arm around her waist and presses his face to her neck. 

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I know. Now go to sleep.”

She does.

~~~

Dawn stirs when the light is flicked on. A nurse is standing in the doorway, Dr. Burns behind her, both looking disapproving.

Anders is still asleep. She touches his face, lightly at first, and then a little harder when he doesn’t respond. 

It’s taking longer for him to wake up.

Finally he sighs and opens his eyes. Dawn slides off the bed, trying not to look guilty. 

“Mr. Johnson,” the doctor says. “It is your lucky day. We’ve found you a new heart.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry for the long wait! I just had no inspiration for this chapter, then suddenly it came on all at once tonight. 
> 
> I think there's one more chapter and an epilogue left.

The room that had once been so gravely still is now a flurry of activity. Nurses come in and out, monitoring, checking, taking notes and readings and measurements of things Dawn can’t even begin to understand. 

She doesn’t want to understand. She doesn’t want to know. She doesn’t want to let herself hope. 

Maybe things are going right for once. Maybe, against all odds, they’re going to beat this. They’re going to go up against a god, and win.

The others, however, don’t share her reservations and the mood in the room is lightened considerably. Even Anders seems to be rallying a bit, at the promise of the light at the end of the tunnel approaches.

 _No,_ she chides herself. _Bad metaphor._

Still, though, it’s encouraging to see him like this. Almost a shade of his old self, talking with his brothers. It’s only after they finally leave to grab some food that she can see the tension in his shoulders.

“It’s really happening,” she says softly, to break the ice.

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it. I didn’t think it would.”

“Don’t talk that way.”

“It’s true, Dawn. There are so many others who could use that heart…”

“Stop it.”

“Sorry. I know, I know…” he breaks off, looking around. “I’m grateful. I am. Really.”

“I know you are.”

“It’s just…” he carries on, “is this what it’s going to be from now on?” He gestures round the room, at the various monitors and equipment. “Doctors and hospitals and medication for the rest of my fucking life? I can never drink again, or do anything fun? Am I going to be ‘fragile’ and ‘immuno-compromised’ and unable to leave the fucking house without being worried I’ll catch a cold and die of pneumonia? Is that what my life is going to be from now on?”

She wants to tell him to stop, to be quiet, he should be happy that he’s even getting a life to complain about. But something stops her. He’s right. He may be getting a second chance, but it’s coming at a high price. 

“I don’t know,” she says softly. “Maybe that’s something you can ask…Michele, was it? Maybe she would know more.”

Anders frowns, as though something has just occurred to him. “That’s a very good idea,” he nods. 

“What?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve got that look on your face like when you’re thinking of something. Usually some kind of evil plan.”

He actually laughs at this. “Dawn, when have I ever made evil plans? Well, recently, anyway. But I did think of something.”

“Oh? What is that?”

“Something to ask Michele,” he answers, and yawns. “Fuck, I’ll be glad when I can stay awake for more than an hour at a time.”

“So will I,” Dawn murmurs. “So will I.”

~~~

Anders blinks awake and looks around blearily. Michele and his brothers aren’t back yet, and Dawn is resting on the cot someone had finally brought in. He’s unsure what woke him, until he sees Dr. Burns standing at the doorway, and tries to sit up and attempt to look more presentable.

“Mr. Johnson,” the doctor begins, as he always does. “I apologize, but it seems some paperwork was overlooked earlier.”

 _Oh, shit_ , he thinks, and feels panic rising in his chest. He forces it back down. Beside him, Dawn opens her eyes and is instantly on alert.

“It’s okay,” he reassures her. “Just paperwork. Right?”

“Right,” Dr. Burns agrees. “This should have been done at the beginning of the screening process, but it was such an emergency that it was overlooked. I’ll just go through it with you now. It mainly pertains to your general health and lifestyle habits. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Great,” Anders says, and blinks.

When he opens his eyes again, Dr. Burns is gone, his brothers have arrived, and they and Dawn are staring at him with shocked expressions.

“What?” he asks. “What — where did the doctor go?”

“What do you mean, where did he go?”

 "I _mean_ , he was right here, about to ask me questions, and I blinked and now he's gone. What happened to the questions?"

 "You answered them," Dawn answers and her voice is brittle. "You told him you do coke at least 3 or 4 times a month, that you drink about half a bottle of vodka every night, and that you've tried heroin, LSD and bath salts within the last 3 weeks."

 Anders swallows drily, dumbfounded. "I didn’t say that," he whispers. Then, "I _didn't!"_ He insists, his voice taking on a slightly hysterical tone. "Its not even true! I haven't even touched coke in over a year. And I've never done heroin or anything. Ever. Never, Dawn."

 "Fucking Bragi," Axl hisses, in a rare moment of clarity.

 Anders sits back against the pillows, cool understanding washing over him. This is it. He's so weak now that Bragi can take over. 

 He doesn't have much time left.

 Dawn swallows. "Now what?" She asks, tears in her voice.

 "It'll be over soon," Anders answers. "I mean, the surgery." He looks up. " Where's Michele?"

 “She’s downstairs,” Mike answers. “Her shift is over soon. I told her meet us up here when she’s done.”

 Anders nods, wincing. The last thing he wants to deal with is a cranky, overtired Michele who’s just come off a long shift, but he has questions, and she’s the only one who can answer them. So he steels himself when she enters, looking pissed off.

 “You are causing me a lot of trouble,” she says, though without the usual malice in her voice. “Everyone knows there’s going to be a heart transplant taking place, only no one knows when, so I’ve been yelled at all afternoon over sending patients up to surgery.

 “Sorry,” Anders shrugs, though he really isn’t. This makes it more real. This is really going to happen. “Michele,” he asks urgently. “What exactly is going to happen during the surgery?”

 “You know what’s going to happen.”

 “Details. Walk me through it.”

 “Your heart will be removed, and replaced with a new one. It’s actually pretty simple.”

 He sighs. “No, I mean…they have to stop my heart for that, right? Will I die?”

“Your heart will be stopped — and removed, but You’ll be hooked up to bypass machines and a respirator, that will keep your blood circulating and your lungs breathing.”

“So I won’t die.”

“There are risks, of course - it’s a very serious, very major surgery, but you’re young and otherwise healthy and the transplant team is the best in the region, so no. Chances are, you won’t die.”

“Could I die, though.”

Michele gives him an appraising look. “What exactly are you asking me.”

“You know what I’m asking you.”

“What exactly are you asking?” Dawn cries, her eyes wide. “What are you talking about? You’re not going to die!”

“The god spirit,” Ty says softly. “The only way to lose a god spirit is to die.”

“No. No, you can’t!” she says, her voice taking on a desperate tone. “You can’t die!”

“It’s the only way,” Anders says grimly. “It’s been the plan all along, after all.”

“For how long?”

“Since I found out you were pregnant. Before, maybe. I just didn’t have the balls to say it until then.” 

“So you’re going to die. No matter what, you’re going to die.”

“No…Well, yes, but I just have to die for a minute or two. It’s a risky surgery. All kinds of things can go wrong for a minute or two. Right Michele?”

She purses her lips. “You’re very sick, Anders. Your heart could stop any minute right _now_. It wouldn’t be unusual for there to be a…complication while they hook you up to the machines, and if you die on the table, you’re already surrounded by doctors with life-saving equipment.”

“But…?” he prompts, sensing her reluctance.

“Like I just said, you’re very sick. If you die on the table, there is a chance, a very real chance, that you’d be too far gone to be saved, regardless of what they do.”

Silence. Then, “No,” Dawn says, her voice trembling. “No, you can’t do this, Anders, you _can’t!_ ”

“It’s the only way,” he says again. “Bragi has to go, Dawn. It’s the only way.”

“Because if he doesn’t, we will never have peace,” she finishes in a whisper. 

“No, and worse. When all the gods return to Asgard, I’d have to go with them. I’m not leaving you.”

“And the sooner this happens, the better. Gaia’s re-birthing ceremony is in a week. Ingrid’s going down to Hawke’s Bay to be with Sarah day after tomorrow.”

“Oh well, good thing this’ll be over by then,” Anders says sarcastically, a little sharper than he means to. It’s not their fault - the re-birthing ceremony is the most important thing in their lives right now. After all, it’s what they’ve been waiting for this whole time. Frigg and Odin, reunited after 1000 years, together with their pantheon, ready to cross the Bifrost Bridge and return to Asgard.

Suddenly, he feels very, very alone.

“Michele, will you be there?” he asks, surprising even himself. “During the surgery?”

He expects Michele to make some kind of cutting remark, to roll her eyes and tell him to harden the fuck up and that she was going home to sleep, but she doesn’t. Instead, she nods. “I can scrub in for awhile. Long enough at least, to…you know. Cause a little ‘accident.’”

Dawn shudders.

“Don’t lose your job because of me,” Anders warns. Michele laughs.

“What do I care? Not like I’ll be here.”

She has a point.

He sighs. Now that everything’s taken care of, everything’s planned out and made real, he’s impatient. He’s utterly terrified of what’s about to happen, but at the same time so sick of being _sick_ , that he just wants it over with. How long does it take a heart to arrive, anyway?

The afternoon wears on. Periodically, someone will leave and fetch coffee for the others, even though no one is really interested in drinking it, and there are soon half-full coffee cups on every surface. It would be humourous, but no one has it in them to laugh.

Anders tenses up as the door opens and Dr. Burns comes in. Beside him, Dawn breathes a sigh of relief.

“It’s here, then?” he asks, feeling a little breathless and he thinks how ironic it would be if he dropped dead right now.

But Dr. Burns shakes his head. “Mr. Johnson, we need to talk.”

“About?” he asks warily.

The doctor looks around. “Perhaps this would be better done in private.”

“No, they’re my family. They stay.”

He nods, then clears his throat. “Mr. Johnson, when I came in earlier to take care of some paperwork, I asked you about prior drug and alcohol abuse. You stated that you use numerous illegal drugs and drink heavily. Do you remember this?”

“No,” Anders whispers, feeling bile rise up in the back of his throat.

“You don’t remember this?”

“No,” he says again. “I didn’t say that…I didn’t mean it…”

“Well, whether or not you remember saying it, you did. Unfortunately, a history of drug and alcohol abuse makes you ineligible for a transplant.”

For a moment, Anders can’t parse what the doctor is saying. It’s only Dawn’s gasp that brings it into sharp, painful clarity.

“You can’t be serious,” she says, and she’s almost _laughing_ at the absurdity. “You _can’t_ be serious.”

“I’m afraid I am. This is not hospital regulations, this is government regulations.”

“But you’re condemning him to death! You’re just going to let him die! You can’t do that!”

“I’m afraid I can. I have to. I’m so sorry for the error. It should never have happened, but there is nothing I can do.”

“You bastard,” Dawn hisses. “You complete and utter…” she breaks off, breath hitching as she fights desperately not to cry.

“So now what?” Mike asks softly. 

“I can contact a caseworker to help you arrange hospice care—“

“Fuck no,” Anders scoffs. “If I’m going to die, it’s going to be in my own home.” 

The doctor nods. “I understand. In that case, I will begin your discharge papers.” And then he’s gone, just like that.

“Bragi wins again,” Anders whispers, and suddenly he feels like laughing, and he can’t explain why. The futility, the hopelessness, the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. But he’s numb and he can’t force it out. He wants to cry, or scream, or do _something_ but everything is slow and muted and so he lays there, just trying to breathe. 

“I don’t understand,” says Ty, a look of confusion on his face. “If Anders dies, Bragi will be expelled from his body. Bragi isn’t happy about this, so he…kills Anders? He’s still going to be evicted, what’s the point?”

Olaf laughs grimly. “You really haven’t figured it out by now? Bragi is a dick.”

“That’s why I had to die before they put in the new heart,” Anders whispers without opening his eyes. “Only then, the plan was that I’d come back to life.”

Silence again. Then Dawn raises her head. Her eyes are red and wet, but she’s frowning. “Tell me about this stick again,” she says slowly.

“It’s a branch from Ygdrassil, the Tree of Life,” Olaf answers. “Anders went to Norway to get it.”

“And attracted god-hunters for my trouble. Then Michele apparently took it.”

“It’s a goddess thing,” she shrugs. “The stick gives me the power to heal people. Even to the point of bringing them back from the dead.”

“How powerful is this stick?” 

“It brings people _back_ from the _dead,_ ” Michele says impatiently. “It’s pretty damn powerful.”

“But it won’t work on Anders,” Olaf reminds her. “If Michele heals his heart, Bragi’s just going to do it again.”

“But you said it can bring people back from the dead. And if someone dies, the god spirit leaves them.”

Slowly, realization dawns on everyone’s faces.

“Anders is going to die either way,” Ty says.

“Can I bring him back _and_ fix his heart at the same time?” Michele muses. She looks at Olaf.

“I don’t know, can you?” he asks.

“Will it _work?_ ”

Olaff shrugs again. 

Anders struggles to sit up. “It’s worth a shot,” he says grimly. “Now let’s go home. I’ve got dying to do.”

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, um...I owe everyone a HUGE apology for seemingly abandoning this story at the most crucial point. I really didn't mean to - first nanowrimo happened, then exams, and Christmas, and just...yeah. I'm really embarrassed. BUT here's the last chapter, there's just an epilogue to wrap things up. Hope you like it.

Anders lets Ty help him walk up the stairs to his apartment, then pushes him away and opens the door. If this is to be the last time he’ll enter, then he will enter unaided.

He feels like it’s been a million years since he’s been here. It hasn’t even been a week. Last time he’d stood in this place, the biggest problem he’d had was facing life without Dawn.

Well, now Dawn’s here, and he’s facing the end of his life.

Oh, he knows the plan. Wait till he dies and Bragi is gone, then use the stick to bring him back. It sounds like a good plan on the surface, but he also knows the likelihood of it working. The simple fact is, they just don’t know if Michele has that kind of power, to both bring him back to life _and_ fix his heart so he doesn’t just immediately die again. He might survive this. 

Then again, there’s an equally good chance he won’t.

He’d rather stay in the living room, but Michele steers him toward the bedroom

(Funny how that’s a scenario he never thought he’d be in)

And indicates he should lay down on the bed. He does, and she sets up the small, portable heart monitor she’d brought with her. He almost expects something to be different this time

(A miracle, if he believed in them)

But there isn’t - it beeps at the same, slightly-too-fast rate it had in the hospital. No change. No last minute chance of salvation. 

“How long?” Mike asks. They’ve all followed him into the bedroom, every last one of them, and he has to fight the feeling that they’ve all come to watch him die. That’s not fair, and while it might be true, they’re here so they can save him. Even still, he wishes they would all leave. Right now, he just wants to be alone, with Dawn. 

Michele looks at the monitor with a grim expression, then shakes her head. “Hard to say. A few hours, maybe a day.”

“Might as well order in,” Anders tries to joke, but his voice is weak and raspy. “Might be here awhile.”

And then there’s just silence, as everyone looks around at everyone else, and tries not to face the elephant in the room. Or the dying man.

“I’m serious,” Anders tries again. “Go, make yourselves comfortable. Not that you don’t…do that already…when I’m not…” he breaks off, gasping for breath. Michele hurriedly puts an oxygen tube in his nose and turns on the flow. Then she takes the pillow from the other side of the bed and slides it under his calves, elevating his feet, helping the blood to flow to his brain, keeping him conscious as long as possible, until his heart tires out and gives up and — 

“Go,” he says again, when he can finally breathe. “I just need…” _I don’t want to drop dead in front of you all._

“Go on,” Dawn says, taking control of the situation. “You can wait in the living room, or you can leave, I don’t care.”

“We’re not leaving,” Mike says. “Well, we’ll go in the living room. But we’re not leaving Anders.”

Anders politely waits for them all to leave before huffing a laugh. “Not so long ago…all he wanted…was to leave me to die.”

“Don’t talk,” Dawn says. She walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. “Save your strength.”

“The sooner…I get this over with…the better,” he says matter-of-factly, but Dawn winces. 

“It might not work,” she says quietly. 

“But it probably will.” 

 _You don’t know that,_ her eyes seem to say, but she keeps quiet, and just holds his hand. He curls his fingers around hers, enjoying the warmth.

“Your hands are so cold,” she says softly. 

“I’m dying.”

“Stop it,” she says, dropping his hand. “Just, stop. I know you are, but can you just…stop saying it?”

“Sorry.”

“It’s all right. I’m just…I don’t know. It’s a lot to take in. My entire life changed in the space of a week, and now I don’t know anything anymore.”

“If this doesn’t work…”

“Don’t say it. Don’t even say it,” Dawn pleads. She looks exhausted.

“Go out there,” Anders says. “Go be with the others.”

“No. I’m not leaving you.”

“I’m not good company right now.”

“But what if you…you know…and no one knows?”

He nods at the leads for the heart monitor on his chest. “It’ll let you know. It’ll take a minute or two for anything to happen with Bragi, anyway. Go on. You need to be with people right now. And I want a nap.”

He can see the retort in her eyes, but she doesn’t say it. What more is there to be said now. Instead, she squeezes his hand, and gets up.

She doesn’t know what she’s going to find in the living room, but she goes out there anyway, because he wants her to, and she can do that for him. The rest of the family is gathered awkwardly in the various couches, but Olaf, in the one overstuffed chair, gets up and offers it to her. She sinks into it gratefully, but doesn’t speak.

No one knows what to say, until finally there’s a knock at the door, and an older woman with long auburn hair walks in. 

“Am I too late?” she asks fretfully. 

Dawn bristles immediately. “Unfortunately for you, no.” 

Olaf looks confused then, “you haven’t met Ingrid, have you. She’s the other oracle! She’s going to help with…you know.”

Dawn shudders, but Ingrid’s face lights up in a smile. “You must be Dawn! I always hoped Anders would settle down someday. Oh, your daughter is going to be beautiful!”

She freezes. “Our…our daughter?” Her hand instinctively goes to her stomach, as it has been these days, and Ingrid winks. “Oracle.”

“Of course…” she knows by now better than to question it, but her mind is alight with the new knowledge. Anders has to come through this. He has to. 

“How wonderful,” Ingrid smiles. 

“You make sure he knows it’s his,” Olaf says, taking a sip form his beer. “Even if you don’t remember —“

“Wait, what?” Dawn asks. “If I don’t remember what?”

Suddenly there’s silence in the small living room.

“Nobody told her,” Ty says.

“Told me what?” Dawn asks, her eyes narrowing. “ _Now_ what have you forgotten to tell me about being a god?”

“It’s more…something that happens when you _stop_ being a god…”

~~~

Despite what he’d told Dawn, Anders doesn’t nap. He tries, but sleep won’t come. He’s cold and thirsty, but Michele has forbidden him from taking anything by mouth until he’s been resurrected. He can’t see why - if he chokes to death, then all the better, right? The sooner this is over, the sooner he can go back to living a normal life. Or as normal as can be. 

The day wears on. He can see the light changing around the closed blinds, as it turns gold, then orange, then fades away entirely. If this were some kind of movie, he muses, this would be the part where he dies. 

He doesn’t die. The monitor keeps steadily beeping away. It’s beginning to annoy him. 

The door cracks open. He thinks it’s Dawn, but quickly realizes the outline is all wrong. 

It’s Ty.

Quickly, he pretends to be asleep.

Ty comes in and shuts the door. He sighs, then sits down on the edge of the bed. 

“Hey bro,” he says softly. “I know you probably can’t hear me right now, but…just in case this doesn’t work, I just…wanted to get this out, I guess.”

He takes a deep breath. “When Mike told me you used Bragi to made me forget Dawn, I was…furious. I wanted to kill you. I thought you were doing it because you wanted to get your end away with her, or because you were punishing me for giving up my godhood, or because…fuck, maybe just because you thought it would be funny. But…then I met Julie…and I saw you and Dawn together…and I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to tell you that I don’t think you’re a prick. Not all the time, anyway. And if this doesn’t work…I’m really going to miss you.” 

He sits awkwardly for a minute, and Anders wonders if he should say something, give some kind of indication that he heard, and that the feeling is mutual. But another minute goes by without either of them saying anything, and then Ty gets up and leaves, and Anders is in darkness once more.

He thinks he might have slept a little at some point. It’s hard to tell. The world seems to be getting fainter, ‘flatter’ and he hopes it’s not going to be too much longer. He’s getting bored. 

Some time later, the door opens again, and again, he thinks it must be Dawn. And again, it’s not. The hulking shadow of his baby brother is instantly recognizable. 

“Hey,” Axl says softly. “Uh…shit, you’re not dead yet, are you? No, okay…” Anders can hear him shuffling around, putting his hands in his pockets as he does when he’s particularly unsure of himself. 

“Listen,” Axl says. “I just wanted you to know that I don’t blame you. For Gaia. For any of it, I guess. It wasn’t your fault…well, mostly not your fault…and I know you didn’t make Helen get killed, or Idun to go to Gaia. And I know that you didn’t really want to sleep with her. She explained everything, sorta. I don’t really understand, but I trust her - and you - when you say that you couldn’t help it. And, and I think that you’re a good brother. Really. So…don’t die? Or something?” 

If possible, the resulting silence is even more awkward than with Ty. Axl coughs nervously. “Okay…” he says softly. “I’ll just..go now. They didn’t make me come in here, if you were wondering. I guess you’re not wondering. Uh, bye.” 

He shuts the door, and Anders breathes out again. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to feel anymore. 

Cold. Tired. Dizzy. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes. It might be an hour, or several. The window is still dark when he opens his eyes again. 

There’s another figure in the room. _Oh, no_. 

“Hey,” Mike says, his voice softer than Anders has heard it in years. “I know if you could hear me, you’d think that I was coming in here to laugh at you. I know you probably think I’m gad your dying. Maybe you think that I’m hoping you stay dead. You probably think I hate you.”

He moves closer to the bed, and Anders gets the sudden, irrational fear that he’s going to hit him. 

“I’ll tell you something,” Mike says, and his voice is full of sorrow. “And it’s something I should have said years and years ago, but  I didn’t, because I didn’t want to admit it to myself. I know you didn’t coerce Val into sleeping with you. I know how your powers work — worked. You could only do it if she was up for it, and she was. And I also know that you thought you were helping. In your fucked-up mind, you really did think it was the right thing to do. And you were wrong, but…I have to give you credit for trying.

“I never hated you, Anders. I was angry with you, but I never hated you. I just wish things could have turned out differently. You’ve proved that you can be a decent person when you want to be.”

Without another word, Mike gets up and leaves.

It’s getting hard to breathe now, even with the oxygen. Anders feels like he’s just run a marathon.

The door creaks open again, and there’s a shadow on the wall. For a moment he has the wild thought that it’s the spectre of death, coming to claim him, but then Olaf steps into the room. His grandfather is still dressed in a loose Tshirt and boardshorts, but there’s a difference to him, a _heaviness_. He stands at the foot of Anders’ bed for a long time, as though trying to memorize every detail. Once or twice, he looks like he’s about to speak, but doesn’t. It seems like he stands there for a long time, but it’s really probably only a minute. Finally, he shakes his head.

“God or not, no man should have to watch his grandson die.”

The next time he opens his eyes, Olaf is gone, and Dawn is sitting by the side of the bed. 

“Hey,” he says softly. It’s no more than a whisper, and he has to take deep breaths after. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know.” Dawn’s voice is tight and shaky.

“Don’t cry.”

“Did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That I’m going to forget you.” Her voice is sad and small. “You never told me that part. When you die and come back, I’m going to forget who you are!”

“Oh…that.” Damn. _Damn!_ How could they have forgotten?

“That! How could you forget to tell me that?! It’s kind of important!” Her voice is rising. He get’s the feeling this is not the first time this evening she’s had this conversation. 

“It’ll be okay.”

 _“_ No it _won’t_! Don’t you understand! Either way, I’m going to lose you! Either you’ll die and you won’t come back, or you will, and I’ll have no idea who you are! Either way, our daughter won’t know her father.”

“Our daughter?”

“Ingrid told me,” she sniffs. 

He considers telling her that Ingrid is only rarely right, but it takes too much effort. “Dawn,” he says, speaking slowly to make sure the words get out. “If I come back, and you forget me…it’ll be okay.”

“No it won’t.”

“You fell in love with me once, didn’t you? Then you will again.”

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Then she leans forward, puts her head in her hands, and just sobs. “That’s the first sensible thing anyone’s said all night.”

“Come here,” he says, trying to pat the mattress next to him, but fuck, his hands aren’t working. “Come lie next to me.”

She does, being careful not to disturb the leads for the monitor. 

“We’re going to get through this.” It sounds lame even to his ears, but it’s all he has to offer, and speaking is getting harder.

“I wish I hadn’t run away from you, when you told me about the god thing.”

“I would have run too. And I probably wouldn’t have come back, either.”

She laughs at that. “I thought…I don’t know what I thought. Not this. I thought finally, things were going to be all right.”

“They will be.” 

“But they might not be.” He can see her eyes shining in the darkness, and he knows that no matter what he says, it’s not going to be enough. Fuck, even if he was the god of poetry still, there’s no words that would make it okay. 

He doesn’t have the energy for words anymore, either. But some things go beyond words.

They lie together in silence for awhile, just clinging desperately to each other’s presence, until Anders can muster the energy to speak again.

“There’s something I meant to do,” he says. “Before all this started. Was gonna do it…the night of the festival.”

“What?”

“The dresser.” 

She gets up and goes over to it, looking at him questioningly.

“Look in the top drawer.”

“All I see is underwear.”

“No, under the underwear.”

He closes his eyes as she feels around, then gasps as she finds the small box. “Oh my God…”

“Here.”

She even laughs a little at that, and then the mattress sags as she returns to her place next to him.

“Like I said…got interrupted,” he continues. “But now…seems a good time…as any.”

“I accept,” she whispers, a tear spilling down her cheek, shining in the dim light in the room.

“I think… you’ll have to put it on… yourself,” he says. His entire body feels like lead. There’s an elephant sitting on his chest. “Now… you can’t forget me.”

“Don’t,” she says, her brow furrowing. _Don’t remind me that I’ll be newly engaged and a widow on the same night._

“Okay.” He doesn’t have the energy to argue with her. He doesn’t have the energy to talk. The air is getting thinner, and there’s a an elephant on his chest, and he knows he doesn’t have much more time. He meets her eyes, and she knows it too.

“I’ll be here,” she promises. “When it happens. I won’t let you die alone.”

_I always knew I would_

“I love you.”

_Not what I was expecting to hear on my deathbed._

He can’t answer anymore, so he just turns his head to look at her, determined that his last sight will be a beautiful one. His vision is starting to fail; the ambient light getting dimmer, and sounds seem to come from farther away. The crushing in his chest is turning into pain, and there’s a roaring in his eyes.

“Dawn,” he gasps, desperate to get her attention before it’s too late. “It’s coming.”

She’s crying openly now, holding tight to him as though she can hold him to this life. 

 _This is a good thing_ she repeats to her self, even as his features contort in agony as his heart starts to seize up. _This is a good thing_. The heart monitor is screaming now, a high pitched wail that’s unmistakeable. 

At three in the morning, with Dawn’s hand cupping his cheek, Anders dies. 

The response is immediate. The others had been listening for the death knell all night, and now there was no hesitation, no confusion.

“Move,” Michele snaps, entering the room with a large log in her hand. “Get away from him!”

Dawn scrambles backward off the bed, into Ingrid’s waiting arms. Olaf moves in on her other side, and then they all wait, holding their breaths.

And then it happens.

From the centre of Anders’ chest rises a column of pure energy, red and crackling. There’s a howling in her mind, and it feels like there’s a hurricane force wind around them in the little room. Ingrid shields her, and Olaf steps in front of the two, as the angry god finally leaves Anders’ body and returns to the Universe.

“That’s it?” Dawn asks weakly.

“Almost,” Ingrid assures her, but they both know that the hard part isn’t over with yet. 

Michele puts her hands on the log, and Dawn feels her heart sink. This is the thing that’s supposed to save him? A piece of wood? She turns to look at Ingrid, but the Oracle shakes her head. 

“It works,” she says softly, knowing the question Dawn was about to ask.

Michele’s palms are glowing with a kind of radiant inner light, and her face is serene. She lets go of the log, and places her hands on Anders’ chest, and they wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Nearly a full minute goes by, and Dawn feels like she can’t breathe. Even the oracles are looking worried now, and she knows something’s gone wrong.

And then Anders coughs, takes a deep breath, and sits up. 

Dawn breaks out of Ingrid’s grip and throws herself on the bed, hugging him as tight as she can. She’s crying, and she thinks he might be too.

“You’re all right,” she asks at last, pulling away to check him over, as though she can see what’s missing. “You feel okay?”

He frowns. “I feel…the same, actually. But better.” Then, “wait. You remember me!”

“Yeah! I do! I don’t know how, but…”

“Oh!” Ingrid claps her hands together. “Of course! The baby!”

“What?”

“Because it is of both of you,” she explains. “There’s a piece of him in you.”

“Ew,” Axl breaks in. 

“Now what?” Dawn asks, scarcely daring to believe. “Is this it? There’s nothing else you’ve forgotten to tell me?”

“Nothing,” Olaf confirms. “Now, we get Idun out of Gaia, and get Frigg in, and go back to Asgard. Er, not you, Anders. Sorry.”

“That’s all right,” he breathes. “I wouldn’t go anyway.”

“It’s over,” Dawn whispers, and Anders nods. 

“It’s over.”


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue. Please remember that I had this story planned out to the end LONG before the actual Season 3 aired, so it's not true to what actually happened.

He doesn’t know what he’d been expecting with the opening of the Bifrost Bridge. Something dramatic, maybe. Something magical. 

Or maybe it is, and he just can’t feel it anymore. 

A small price to pay. 

Gaia is radiant and Axl is lordly as they step towards each other, Odin and Frigg reunited after 1000 years apart. She places her hands in his, and they wait.

“Nothing’s happening,” Dawn whispers from their vantage point on the edge of the clearing. They’re not allowed inside the stones. Not Dawn and Julie, and not Anders and Ty, either. Not anymore.

“It will,” Anders whispers back. Of that, he has no doubt.

“It’s getting colder,” Ty says. “The gate is opening.

At first he can’t see it. Then he realizes, there’s nothing to see. The air in the forest is getting colder, and Dawn steps closer to him with a shiver. They all hold their breath, and then —

Nothing. Until Anders realizes he can _see through_ his brothers.

“Fuck,” Ty whispers, and before Anders can hold him back, rushes to the edge of the circle, stopping just before crossing it. Anders follows quickly. 

Odin — _Axl_ breaks his gaze with Frigg, and gives them a small grin. “Bye, Anders. Bye, Ty,” he says in that familiar tone, as though he was leaving for school, not forever. “Hey Anders - if I see Bragi I’ll kick his ass, okay?”

Mike is more reserved. He nods once at each of them, even as his body is fading out of sight. “Take care of each other.”

And then it’s over. The forest is empty, like nothing had ever taken place. Even the runestones are gone.

Like there is no evidence the Johnson family ever existed. 

 _But they did,_ Anders thinks as they head back to the car. _I am here, and Ty is here, and it will live on in my daughter and Ty’s kids. The Johnsons are not gone._

_They’re just human._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. A huge, huge thank you to everyone who's stayed with me over this story; who has commented or given kudos or even just read and enjoyed it. I enjoyed writing it for you :)


End file.
